Breakdown
by Dylan Cruca
Summary: On the way home to see his sister, a young Kurt Weller's car breaks down, and he finds himself at a farm run by a mysterious family. The oldest daughter immediately captures his attention. Very AU. Rating changed.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N-So this is my Blindspot version of the "Farmer's Daughter" premise. I'm a bit nervous about this, because it's pretty wildly AU. It takes place in the late 90s, when these two cuties were younger and not everyone had a cell phone. I'm taking a little license with ages, but given the fact that I've messed with pretty much everything else, I figure that's a small sin in comparison. Hope a few of you out there enjoy this. I'm done rambling, so here's some fic!**

 **Chapter 1**

* * *

Kurt banged his forehead against the steering wheel a few times as he grumbled a long series of curses. Part of him had known something like this would happen. He'd asked his buddy to help him replace the transmission in his beaten up twenty-year-old Civic because he had to get home to see his sister in Clearfield. He'd made it half way when a clunk warned him that something was not right with the vehicle. At first he'd resigned himself to finishing the journey going a mere thirty miles an hour, but only a few minutes later he was sitting by the side of the road, knowing that he wasn't going to make it to Clearfield and back to the military academy by the end of the weekend. It wasn't like they'd accept any excuses.

He fumbled under the passenger's seat for a crumpled map and realized it wasn't going to be much help. There had been an accident on the highway, so he'd decided to take a back road that had seemed familiar. "Hindsight," he griped aloud, regretting his choice.

There had to be a house or a gas station near here, a place to use a phone so he could get a tow and a ride to the train station. He grabbed his wallet from the console and shoved it in his back pocket before placing a fresh white tee shirt in the window to mark the car as broken down. Then he took a resigned breath and started down the road ahead.

He hadn't seen anything for several miles, so he continued north, hoping that he'd find something before nightfall. It wasn't that the trip was arduous. This little stroll was nothing like the grueling exercises he was put through at the academy, but it was frustrating, and he knew his sister would worry when he didn't show.

It took nearly two hours to finally find a dirt road on the edge of a farm. There were posted 'No Trespassing' signs on either side of the driveway, but he hoped they'd accept this intrusion, given the circumstance. Either that, or he'd get shot. He silently mused that at least if he got shot, he'd get a ride in an ambulance…or a hearse.

After walking nearly a half-mile down the dirt drive, he saw a teenager throwing hay bales from a newly mowed field onto the back of a truck. "Hey, man," Kurt hollered, offering a perfunctory wave. The teen dusted his hands against each other and then started to walk briskly toward Kurt. "Look, my car broke down abou-"

His words were brought to an abrupt halt when the younger guy tackled him to the ground. "What part of 'no trespassing' confused you?" the teen yelled in Kurt's face.

Not wanting to hurt the kid, Kurt put his hands to the side and said, "What the hell, man? My car broke down. Can I just borrow your phone for five minutes? I have thirty bucks or so on me…it's yours if I can make a call."

The younger guy leaned in closer and said, "Do you really think that—"

"Roman, what are you doing?" a chilling voice asked from nearby. "Get off him."

Kurt turned toward the speaker as Roman stood, noting that this woman somehow had control over the wild boy. She was extremely well-muscled, thin and stoic, with caramel skin. A thick, curly, and unruly pony tail hung behind her, seeming a rather disorderly feature for someone who was otherwise so orderly.

Kurt stood and brushed the dust off his pants and shirt. "I'm very sorry to disturb you, ma'am," he began, "but my car broke down. This is the first place I've seen for miles. I just need to call for a tow or—"

"Come on," she nodded down the road.

He followed, keeping one eye on Roman, who was following him at a slight distance.

"Stand down," the woman ordered without turning, and Kurt felt Roman immediately back off. "Go finish your work."

When the house came into sight, it was perfectly kept, the paint fresh, windows spotless. A golden retriever lay on the porch, perking one ear in Kurt's direction when he approached.

"Where are you from, young man?" the woman asked.

"Clearfield, ma'am."

She smiled, and he suspected it was supposed to be a friendly gesture, but it sent chills down his spine. "Army?" she asked.

"Military academy," he admitted. "My sister still lives in Clearfield, and I was trying to get up to see her this weekend. She's expecting me."

"Ah," the woman nodded with apparent approbation. "I'm Ellen, but most people know me as Shepherd."

"Kurt Weller, ma'am."

"Well, cadet, I'd hate to worry your sister. You can call."

"I would really appreciate that…" he started. The sound of metal on metal caught his attention and he looked past Shepherd to the side of the house. Kurt saw something that instantly numbed his tongue. Standing on an upended wooden crate, a young, dark-haired woman leaned over an ancient tractor, clearly displeased with whatever malfunction the machine had. She stood and stretched for a moment, making it clear that she'd probably been tinkering with it for long enough to make her back ache like that. She wore tattered, faded, and worn-thin jeans, obviously ragged from work rather than by the manufacturer. She also wore a white tee that was nearly as battered, with a large smear of oil across her breast. Her hair hung down in sweaty tendrils over the side of her face. Her fingers were blackened from her work. As she stopped to see who was visiting, she pushed her hair away from her face with the back of her wrist, wiping sweat from her forehead and leaving a new smudge on her skin. "Yea," Kurt continued. "There's some, uh…grease or—"

"What?" the older woman asked with immediate irritation.

He intentionally coughed to buy himself some time to think and then said, "Excuse me…I would appreciate the phone call. I don't want my sister to worry." He couldn't seem to stop leaning to one side to keep his eyes on the young mechanic. Every move she made was mesmerizing.

Shepherd crossed her arms, scowled, and said, "Is there a problem?"

"Absolutely not. No problem at all. I could probably help with that," he said, nodding toward the tractor.

"With my daughter?" she snapped.

"Well," he nervously chuckled, "No. No, of course not. I meant with the tractor."

"You a mechanic?"

"I dabble."

"Why would I let a dabbler with a broken down car work on my tractor?"

"Good point," he admitted.

She laughed, again more chilling than reassuring, and said, "Come on. I'll take you to the phone."

She walked up the steps, and Kurt tried to concentrate on each stair so he didn't trip and further make an ass out of himself. He tried to hand Ellen the few bills he had in his wallet, but she just said, "Consider it a favor."

He would have much rather paid the woman, because he suspected that she would require repayment of any favors, but before he could protest, he saw her daughter outside the tall kitchen window, and forgot to object. Shepherd handed him the phone and said, "You want a drink?"

"That would be wonderful, ma'am," he continued.

He noted the savory smells of something in the oven, and his stomach growled. It had been far too long since he'd last eaten. This place was so strange, all at once homey and kind of cold and institutional at the same time. The floor was spotless, nothing was out of place. There were no dirty dishes in the sink, or chairs that weren't pushed under the table where they belonged. And this family definitely seemed…interesting. He wondered if there was a father somewhere in this equation, or if Shepherd was the only parent running this joint with an iron fist.

He tried to explain the situation to Sarah as quickly as possible, but since she only had her learner's permit, she wasn't allowed to drive alone, and he didn't want his father to know he was going to visit. After Sarah hung up, he stayed on the phone for a moment as an excuse to watch the woman outside through the window. She looked frustrated by her work, but that didn't dampen her beauty in the least. He was unabashedly staring through the window at her when she suddenly paused and turned toward him.

He spun away immediately, almost running into Shepherd, who was standing behind him with a glass of iced tea. "Thank you!" he answered, the sound of his enthusiasm annoying him slightly.

"Uh-huh," she replied, studying him.

"I could at least _try_ to help fix that. The tractor," he clarified, hoping that the excuse didn't come off as too forced. He would have offered almost anything for the chance to talk to the woman outside without Shepherd over his shoulder. "It's the least I could do for the use of your phone."

Shepherd offered a narrow smirk and shook her head, making him wonder what he'd gotten himself into. "You know what...? Be my guest." He took a few steps past her, and she snickered, "Good luck."

He walked outside and placed his glass on the railing before leaving the porch and walking around to the place where the young woman had been working.

"Need help?" he asked as he approached. She didn't even bother glancing in his direction. He paused, looking around and seeing Roman driving the pickup truck full of hay past the house, casting a somewhat menacing glare. "I'm Kurt," he added, but she didn't acknowledge his presence in the least.

He watched her fighting with something under the hood until she finally said, "Hop up here and hold this side steady, would ya?"

Balancing on the front tire so he could see, he peered into the engine and saw that most of the parts of the ancient motor had been replaced. "Did you do all of this?" he asked with interest.

She pointed at a pair of grooved pliers pinching a bolt and said, "Keep that still while I tighten this side."

"Sure," he answered.

Even though she'd barely paid him any mind, at least he could get an unobstructed look at her. Her concentration was unbreakable, and she didn't really seem to mind or notice how close the stranger was. As she reached lower, he tried not to look down the front of her shirt, but it required herculean effort. He found himself smiling as he discovered the deep green of her eyes.

When she said, "Done," it felt like he was snapped out of a trace.

The moment he removed his hands from danger, she slammed the hood down and climbed up on top of it before she jumped over to the seat. Kurt was more than a little surprised at the degree of her physical conditioning. He started to wonder if maybe she was in the service and home on leave, but the tattoos that escaped onto her hands wouldn't be allowed in most branches.

When the tractor started up, she nodded her satisfaction and hopped down with relatively little celebration.

"So you're a mechanic?" he asked, leaning against the equipment and facing her, trying to strike up a conversation.

"No," she replied, offering no additional insights.

"How'd you learn to do that?"

She shrugged, "Take one part out, put a new part in. Simple."

She _almost_ smiled when he said, "Simple to you, maybe. That's really cool that—"

"If we're done congratulating ourselves…" Shepherd stiffly said from the porch. "Chow time."

Kurt watched as the almost-smile left the younger woman's face and she wiped her dirty hands on her tattered jeans and went into the house without protest. Kurt couldn't stand the way Shepherd had stolen the younger woman's near-smile. It wasn't like she'd been gloating or even celebrating her success. One thing was clear: this was a tough household to grow up in.

Roman came up from behind and rammed a shoulder into Kurt's arm as he passed, saying "Good luck with that, _loverboy_." But when Roman turned back and looked at Kurt, his smile was a bit less menacing.

"You coming or not?" Shepherd asked.

"Thank you, ma'am," Kurt responded, jogging his way up the steps. "Is there something I can do to help with dinner?"

"Run out back and kill a chicken," Roman said somberly, but Kurt realized the younger man was silently laughing.

"Dinner is already dead," Shepherd assured him, taking a large cast iron pot from the oven.

Kurt's stomach growled again, and he was grateful that he'd have the chance to eat. He looked around for the daughter, noticing that she was nowhere to be found.

"Show our guest to the washroom before dinner," Shepherd said to Roman.

Kurt was surprised when the teen didn't bother arguing, but simply bobbed his head and said, "C'mon."

The wide plank floorboards creaked under Kurt's feet, and he wondered if Shepherd was able to order them to silence when she walked over them. They continued down the hall, passing a living room until they made it to the bathroom. There was a huge claw foot tub and large basined sink, and he noticed that the rest of the house appeared to be just as orderly as the kitchen and the exterior. His place in Clearfield had never been this tidy, and it didn't appear that they'd been expecting guests.

Roman washed very thoroughly first, which Kurt found surprising for a kid of maybe sixteen. When he was finished, he waited for Kurt, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

"So…that's your sister?" Kurt casually asked.

"Candy," Roman said.

"What?"

"That's her name," Roman replied. "We call her Candy. What about her?"

"Nothing," Kurt replied as he dried his hands on a big white towel that hung by the sink. She definitely didn't look like a girl named Candy. He heard footsteps on the stairs and then saw the young woman hurry past the door to the kitchen, now washed up and wearing a clean shirt. This was a tightly run ship.

Roman and Kurt went to the kitchen table. Shepherd and her daughter stood behind their seats and waited. Once Roman and Kurt were behind their own seats, Shepherd nodded and everyone slid out their chair and sat down. This place was more formal than the military academy. Shepherd opened the pot at the center of the table and revealed a large roast with carrots and potatoes soaked in gravy. Shepherd dished her own serving first, then offered the ladle to Kurt.

It was simple, but tasty, especially to someone whose meal was long overdue. The family sat in silence, shoveling food in their mouths like it was a task to be completed rather than a meal to share.

"So, Candy," Kurt said after he took a drink, "you in school?" She didn't look up from her meal, so he waved a hand in her direction and said, "Candy?"

"What the hell did you call me?" she asked, sneering and putting down her fork. For a moment, he thought she might tackle him to the ground just like her brother had.

"I…uhh…" Kurt's words stumbled for a minute before he saw the teen's face and realized that Roman had been messing with him. "Sorry. I must have misheard your _brother_."

She looked at Roman's snicker through attempted innocence, and then obviously kicked him under the table. Without looking back at Kurt, she replied after a slight delay, "I'm not in school."

They were all quiet again, and Kurt decided to delay any further conversation.

"How do you plan to get to Clearfield?" Shepherd finally asked when she folded her napkin and placed it on her empty plate.

"I'll call for a tow after dinner, if that's okay?" he replied. "Then I'll find a ride to the train station and head back to the academy. I probably don't have time to visit Sarah."

"Sarah?" Roman said, lifting his eyebrows. "Now it makes sense. The only good reason to make that drive is for a piece of—" he stopped when Shepherd glared, and he dropped his eyes to his dish and continued eating.

"Sarah is my sister," Kurt tersely explained, not wanting the beautiful young woman at the table to even momentarily question his availability.

Oddly enough, that was the moment when Roman's sister finally looked at him. It seemed strange that this one little detail finally piqued her interest. "Is she in trouble?" she asked.

"No," he shook his head. "I hope not. I just like to check in on her. See for myself."

The younger woman returned her focus to her meal, ladling seconds. For someone so thin, she really could eat. He realized that he still hadn't figured out her name.

"Family is important," Shepherd evenly stated.

The younger woman finished her glass of water and then said, matter-of-factly, "I'll run you to Clearfield."

Shepherd did not approve of this offer, and shook her head, "No. We have too much to do tomorrow. We have to get the supplies loaded on the trucks."

"I'll load them tonight," the young woman replied.

"Remi…" Shepherd began, "Oscar is coming tomorrow to help, and—"

"You said it yourself…family is important." Remi turned to Kurt and offered, "I'll make you a deal. You help me load the trucks tonight, and tomorrow I'll take you to Clearfield for the day. Then I'll drop you off at the train station in Altoona on the way back."

At least he finally knew her name.

"Are you sure?" Kurt asked.

Shepherd's look in Remi's direction was ice-cold, but she didn't appear too fazed by it. Remi answered, "Yea. As long as I get my work done tonight."

"That would be great," Kurt replied, hoping to hell her mother wasn't about to forbid it.

"Oscar is coming the whole way out here to help you," Shepherd added.

"I'll call and tell him he doesn't have to make the drive. If he wants to come up anyway, he can help Roman," Remi answered, looking Shepherd right in the face, and adding more respectfully, "Ma'am."

"Oscar?" Kurt asked, trying but failing to sound impartial. "Is he another brother or a cousin or something?"

The right side of Remi's mouth smirked ever so slightly in Kurt's direction, barely enough to notice. She didn't miss a thing.

Roman loudly said, "Oscar has been trying to get into—" he stopped and reached under the table to rub his shin after his sister clearly kicked him again. The thud was loud enough to hear.

"He's a family friend," Remi explained.

"Dishes, Remi," Shepherd ordered.

"Friday is Roman's night," she immediately countered, appearing as immovable as Shepherd could be.

"So it is," her mother replied with displeasure before nodding at Roman. "And don't forget the floor."

The teen clearly wasn't happy with his job for the evening, but he wasn't about to disobey.

"You ready?" Remi asked Kurt.

Kurt quickly stood, carrying his own plate over to the sink as he said, "Sure." Stopping to address Shepherd, he added, "Thank you for the meal."

Remi hurried out the door and down the steps, taking off toward a monstrous white barn. She was off like a shot, quickly covering the distance between the buildings. Kurt jogged after her and said, "Hey, wait up."

She glanced over her shoulder, but barely slowed.

When he reached the barn, he helped slide the door open and some movement caught his attention. Standing outside the back of the house, pacing back and forth, was Shepherd, making sure he knew she had her eye on him. He wondered if anything ever happened on the farm outside of her watchful gaze.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N-I really was uncertain if I wanted to post this story, but I was so thrilled and surprised when I saw the response! Thank you all so much. I have really skirted many details. I realize this ridiculous little story requires a suspension of disbelief. That being said, this has been insanely fun to write so far and I thoroughly enjoyed reading some of the responses.**

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

As Kurt looked around the inside of the huge barn, he realized it didn't look like any barn he'd heard of before. There was a loft above, and a set of file cabinets that occupied several feet of one wall. The main space of the barn was filled with training implements, like an obstacle course and a gym. She opened the door of one tall locking cabinet, and he saw electronics inside. There was definitely a computer and a phone, along with a printer and a few devices that blinked occasionally, but he didn't know what they were for.

"Sit tight," she said as she picked up the phone. He could already feel sweat beading on his forehead since the barn was at least twenty degrees warmer than the air outside.

He heard her conversation as he checked out a climbing wall:

" _Hey, it's me._ _Tomorrow's a no go. I have a run to make,"_ Remi said into the phone.

… … …

" _No. It's under control."_

… … …

" _Yea…you too,"_ she added, glancing over at Weller. " _I gotta run."_

Remi hung up and returned the phone to the cabinet before she grabbed keys from inside and carefully locked it back up. "Let's go," she said, swiftly heading outside and around to the back of the barn. Kurt felt like he was always chasing her, even though he'd only just met her.

Behind the barn there were a pair of large box trucks with farm logos painted on them. She hopped in the driver's seat while he climbed into the passenger's, and she drove around, easily backing the unwieldy vehicle up to the door without a second thought. As she checked her mirrors to make sure she'd lined everything up perfectly, he said, "If running me up to Clearfield is a problem, you could just take me to the train station and be back in time to meet up with your friend." He offered, but he hoped to hell she wasn't going to take him up on it.

"Not a problem," she succinctly answered, shutting off the truck and hopping out.

Kurt jogged after her yet again, following up the steps to the loft as he asked, "Are you sure? I don't want to mess up your plans for the weekend."

She looked at him with bemusement for a few seconds, and he wondered why she seemed so confused. Finally she shook her head and said, "If I didn't want to take you, I wouldn't have offered." Before he could respond, she was right back to business. "All of the boxes along this wall have to get loaded on that platform. We'll lower them down and then load 'em on the truck. Got it?"

"Yes ma'am," he answered automatically.

She took off the nicer shirt she'd worn for dinner and hung it on a nail. Beneath she wore a black tank that conformed to her shape. As if she hadn't been distracting enough. She went right to work, no joking or chatting, just moving heavy boxes from one place to another. They'd put almost half of the boxes onto the platform, and she said, "Alright. We'll get these on the truck."

She hopped onto the platform and he followed, standing near her while she unlocked the safety features to lower it. "Hold on," she ordered.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied again, holding onto one of the cables that crisscrossed the back, conveniently bringing him a little closer to her.

As the platform descended, she chuckled and shook her head, "Such a boy scout."

"What?"

"You. You're so polite and formal, such a good little boy scout," she said, the words colored enough to make it clear that it wasn't a compliment.

"No I'm not," he argued.

"Scout's honor?" she mocked, holding up the three-finger salute used by the Scouts.

He leaned a little closer, still careful to give her enough space. He looked right into her eyes and said, lowly, "But I'm definitely not a little boy."

She paused even after the platform came to rest on the lower floor. He couldn't tell if she was trying to come up with a retort or if she was as fascinated by him as he was by her. She looked away first, and took a beat before she engaged the safety lock again. "Fine. You're such a _man_ _scout_ ," she teased, smirking at her own answer and hopping over the cables before she opened the gate.

He followed her to the truck, marching up the ramp behind her as he carried two boxes at a time to try to get the work done. He watched the way her tank rode up when she'd stoop to place the boxes on the ground, and he could see the dip of her spine at her lower back. Even that skin bore intricate and somewhat cryptic tattoos, which of course made him wonder what other artwork might be hidden beneath her clothes. He closed his eyes and decided that if he wanted that ride to Clearfield, he should try to avoid making this woman or her mother hate his guts. He tried to remember the girl he'd met earlier that week at the gas station, the one he had been planning to ask out, but suddenly he couldn't remember her name. Or her face. Or really anything about her.

Remi was so different from any woman he'd ever dated. Different enough that after a couple of hours, he was forgetting about his other opportunities.

"You okay, tough guy?" she teased as she brushed past him, her arm barely touching his, just enough to tickle the hairs and make it known to him that there had been some sort of contact.

"All good here," he said, purposefully forgoing the 'ma'am' to avoid further teasing.

When they had nearly finished the first load, he asked, "What the hell is all this stuff?"

"Probably replacement parts or chemical fertilizer or something," she answered disinterestedly.

"What do you mean 'probably'? You don't know?"

"Everything here is NTKB," she said, using the acronym for the phrase need-to-know-basis that he knew from school.

"And you don't need to know?"

"I don't even want to know," she replied.

He took another stack of boxes up to the truck, and as he came down the ramp, he saw her standing at the bottom like an immovable obstacle. From the look on her face, he was completely certain this beauty who had already redefined the entire concept of 'sexy' was going to hit on him. Her eyes fixed on his lips, she stepped very confidently closer until their bodies were only an inch or two apart at the closest points. This was shaping up to be one of the best days he'd had in a long time, and he was quickly forgetting the frustration of a broken down car and the long walk to a phone.

He should have been worried about her unpredictable brother walking in. Or her domineering mother catching them. Or any of the other things that he should have thought about instead of what it would feel like to touch her. He lowered his head just a little, waiting for her to give him some kind of sign that they were on the same wavelength. He was ready, because the moment he got that sign, he was going to figure out what those perfectly shaped lips tasted like. Her hand went to his side and reached around his back while she lifted her chin toward him, and then he felt something tug at the back pocket of his pants before she assuredly bragged, "Too easy."

She took one step back and looked down at the object in her hands. She had taken his wallet, and opened it, checking out his license first. She studied it carefully, looking over the information and likely trying to figure out if it was a fake. With a tone of disbelief, she questioned, "Twenty?"

"Yea, I'm twenty," he answered defensively. "Why'd you say it like that? You thought I was older or younger?"

She shrugged and continued studying his things without feeling the need to respond. He'd never met someone so comfortable with allowing a question to hang in the air unanswered. She pulled out his military college ID and ATM card, and studied them with just as much attention paid to each. She opened the bill fold and counted his money and he asked, "I'll pay you for gas, if that's what this is about."

She unfolded a piece of paper inside with the phone number and name of the girl from the gas station, reading it without a hint of curiosity or jealousy. She took out both of the condoms he kept in there and mumbled, "So prepared! You always keep backup?"

"Backup?" he scoffed. "Maybe I'm just a more-than-one-round kinda guy."

She rolled her eyes and snickered, placing everything back in place exactly where it had been. She held the wallet out to him, and, after he took it, went right back to work like she didn't just rifle through his belongings.

"Want to tell me what that was all about?" he asked when they rode the platform back up to the loft.

She shrugged. "Wanted to see if your story checked out."

Cockily he replied, "If you were curious about me, you could have asked."

"I'm not curious," she answered, looking so bored with the thought that she might yawn. "But we can't be too careful."

"Make up your mind," he teased. "Am I a boy scout or am I dangerous?"

"You ask a lot of questions," she noted.

They filled the platform again, and only a few boxes remained behind. They'd been working for hours, and were both covered in perspiration and growing tired. She grabbed them each a bottle of water that they chugged down as they rode the platform to the ground. When he finished his drink, he said, "I really appreciate you doing this for me, giving me a ride tomorrow."

She nodded, but he still couldn't seem to read her or figure her out at all.

"For a minute there I thought your mom wasn't going to let you go," he added.

She sneered as she resumed her work and said, "There are so many things wrong with that statement."

"Like what?" he asked as he followed.

"No one 'lets' me do anything. I make my own choices. I'm an adult. And Shepherd is a lot of things, but I'd never call her my mom."

"She said you're her daughter…so I figured—"

Seeming a little more open for the moment, she said, "Everything I have is because of her. Without her, I probably wouldn't even have my own brother. She took us in when no one else wanted us."

"You're adopted?"

She nodded and looked away, perhaps trying to decide if she trusted him with more information. "She has provided for us and helped us in a way that no one else probably could. She's a leader. Protector. Commander even. But she's not really mother material."

He felt himself a bit too concerned about a woman he barely knew, and questioned, "She really works you hard. Doesn't she?"

"We owe her," Remi defended.

"But she doesn't own you," he explained, the protective instinct kicking into overdrive. He was going to have to be more objective, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. "Is she abusive?"

Remi shook her head and said, "I can take care of myself and my brother just fine now."

She returned to work and he asked, "How old did you say you are?" trying to confirm that when she said she was an adult, she'd meant it literally.

"I didn't say," she answered. Walking past him, she added, "Fifteen."

"What?" he practically choked, realizing that he was going to have to pull way back, and get the hell away from her to keep himself out of trouble.

He saw her knowing smirk at his reaction and realized she'd been testing him. She clarified, "Eighteen, idiot. I said I'm an adult."

"I wasn't sure what your definition of adult was," he argued, trying to save face but knowing that she was getting him to show his hand all too easily while she'd showed him relatively little.

When the two trucks were finally closed and locked up, they sat on a stone wall next to the barn and she brought them two beers. "You allowed to drink here?" he asked.

She laughed with the bottle poised near her lips, "There's one of those phrases again…'allowed to.' I make my own choices."

"Your m—Shepherd…seems to really keep a tight grip on you. You and Roman work really hard," he said, nodding up to the house where Roman stood outside, wiping down the railings and siding. "It seems like you spend most of your time working for her."

"We're good soldiers. Shut up and embrace the suck," she said, again quoting a common military phrase.

She was sounding more and more like she'd been in the service. "You served?" he asked.

Closing her eyes, she drank down a few gulps of her drink and said, "It's complicated. The short answer is that Shepherd served. She raised us the only way she knew how. She had to keep us busy so we'd stay out of trouble."

"But do you ever have fun?" he asked. "Maybe get a leave from home or something?"

"I have fun," she answered shortly, but he wasn't sure if she really meant it, or even understood.

"I know you think I'm uptight and formal, but I know how to have fun," he said. "Maybe I could show you some time."

"I don't _need_ anyone to show me how to have fun," she answered harshly.

"I meant I could prove to you that I know how to have a good time," he apologetically returned.

"Oh."

Roman jogged down the hill toward them. Remi looked down at her watch and noted, "Time to run."

"Wait, Where are you going?" Kurt asked, surprised.

"I told you. For a run."

When Roman reached them, he said to Remi, "You ready?"

Kurt figured the two would disappear and leave him there to wonder what was going on. She took a few steps and then turned back to him, asking, "You want to come…or did I wear you out already?"

He smirked, feeling the slight that was insinuated in her tone. Jumping up, he took off after them.

The siblings looked like they were having fun as they ran. Kurt followed just behind them, watching the brother and sister compete in mini races throughout the long loop, occasionally fighting as they ran in an attempt to best the other. They were pretty evenly matched, but Kurt thought Remi was probably going easy on her brother.

Their farm seemed more idyllic at night. The sounds of crickets, locusts and bullfrogs filled his ears, the air fresh and cooler than during the day. It was so clear that he could see twice as many stars as he could on a typical night at school, and the moon cast enough of a glow that he could make out the terrain well enough to avoid any obstacles.

They ran at least six miles, probably more, before they came back to the house and continued various conditioning exercises for another hour. It was no wonder that they were both so fit. They stretched near a pond at a low point in the landscape below the house.

He heard Remi say something that he couldn't quite make out, and then he felt Roman lunge into him. The teen plowed into Kurt and shoved him toward the pond. But Kurt could tell this wasn't a fight…it seemed as if Roman was playing around. Kurt stepped out of the way and twisted free from Roman's grasp, and then he managed to pick up the kid and haul him to the water. He thought Roman had given up and decided to allow himself to get dunked, but at the last second he fought back, and Kurt and Roman were wrestling at the water's edge, the teen slinging taunts.

Kurt was almost certain he had the win, nearly ready to throw Roman into the pond when he felt something take his legs out from underneath him, sending both him and Roman splashing into the dark, chilly water. Kurt looked up and saw Remi grinning down at them from the bank, shaking her head as she said, "Boys."

Roman lurched out of the water to grab her, and she easily stepped away to avoid him, but while avoiding Roman, she hadn't bothered to keep a watchful eye on Kurt, and he grabbed her calves and lifted her up over his head before dropping her into the water with them. When she popped up for air, she had one eye closed, still looking rather at ease.

"Not many people get the drop on me," she complimented.

He gawked at her as she climbed out, and he knew he was going to have to find a way to see her even after she took him to the train station. For some reason, this farm girl who trained like a warrior and knew how to tell a fake ID was someone he just couldn't forget about and move on.

"What are you staring at?" Roman asked, snidely happy for the opportunity to try to make Kurt look stupid again.

"You know you're going to be up at oh-five-hundred," Shepherd said as she approached. Kurt wondered if she had an alarm set for any time Remi was anywhere near happy, so she could make sure to end the moment immediately.

"Yes, ma'am," Roman answered.

"Remi," Shepherd said in that sweet but terrifying way, "A word?"

Remi and Shepherd walked a distance while Kurt and Roman tried to push the excess water from their clothes. "You have something else to wear?" Roman asked him.

Kurt suddenly realized he didn't, and looked down at his soaked body.

"You can't go inside like that. You're gonna have to sleep out on the porch," Roman added.

"Fine by me," Kurt answered, more interested in trying to hear what Remi and Shepherd were arguing about than in Roman's teasing.

"Pal, I see you staring at her—"

"No. I wasn't, man. It's not like that."

Roman warned, "Take my advice and move on. Go back home where girls are impressed by your uniform, meet somebody who wants a nice guy to look out for her."

Kurt nearly argued, although he thought it seemed extremely foolhardy to react too strongly. He'd just met her. Maybe after he got some shut eye, things would look different. Maybe.

After a somewhat heated discussion, Remi stepped away from Shepherd and came back down toward the pond. She said to Kurt, "I'll get you something to wear for the night," as she jogged past him.

Shepherd called for Roman, somehow able to sound like she was yelling without raising her voice, and Roman headed off to the house. Kurt saw Remi go into the supply barn, and he followed. When he entered, she was ferociously letting loose on a heavy bag.

"Hey," he said, trying to announce himself so she didn't confuse him for an intruder and turn her rage on him. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she said, immediately reining in her anger and turning it off like nothing had happened. It was eerie how easily she halted such a strong emotional response. "I thought you were with Roman. I'll get your stuff."

She went up the steps and he hurried after her. She started looking through some storage closets, and pulled out a plain tee shirt and sweatpants that were still in the plastic bags. "Right size?" she asked.

"Perfect," he answered, trying to smile but noticing that she didn't look at him at all. "What's going on?" he gently asked.

"Nothing," she answered a bit too quickly.

"You can talk to me," he offered.

"Good to know," she roughly retorted.

"Remi, I know that—"

"You _know_?" she argued. "You don't _know_ anything about this. You don't know me, and I don't know you."

"You want to check my wallet again?" he tried to joke, but she wasn't in the mood for banter.

Her face was stony and harsh, and he found himself hating Shepherd already, even though this whole situation was still very much a mystery to him. With the utmost sincerity, she said, "Tomorrow night, you'll be on a train back to your barracks, and I'll be here. You'll go on with your life and I'll go on with mine. I don't need your help and I don't need someone to talk to."

She had sounded more pragmatic than cruel, but her words bothered him anyway. She stood by the door of the barn, waiting for him to exit so she could lock up. While she did so, he said, "Why are you driving me around tomorrow?"

He waited for an answer, fully expecting her to provide one, but she said, "There's an outdoor shower around back. Cleanup there. Bring your dirty clothes inside when you're done and I'll throw them in the washer."

Watching her walk back to the house, he sighed. She was probably right. In a few hours this would all be nothing more than a strange memory.

* * *

When Remi walked into the kitchen, Shepherd was talking to Roman. "…If he gets up, let me know right away."

"You're not really concerned about _him_ , are you?" Remi asked as Shepherd spun around.

"You're being reckless, letting him walk around here like he's family. Those supplies could have been moved by you and Oscar tomorrow. I don't know what your game is here, girl, but I don't like it."

"No game," Remi replied. "He wants to see his sister. He's trying to look out for her. You know I'd do anything for Roman…"

Shepherd took a deep breath full of relief, "Is that what this is all about? You want to help him get back to his sister?"

"It seemed like the right thing to do. Family first," Remi said. "You've drilled that into our heads for almost ten years."

Shepherd seemed more relaxed, but said, "We could have talked about it privately. Come to a decision as a team. One of my men could have transported Weller. There's no need for you to be personally involved."

Remi nodded and said, "I should have handled it differently."

"We'll talk about it after _he's_ gone," Shepherd said before she walked into the other room.

Remi sat at the table, drumming her fingers as she waited for Kurt to return. She'd just lied to Shepherd through her teeth, and for once Shepherd didn't seem to notice. Sure, initially she had wanted to help someone like her, someone who valued a sibling, had loyalty and dedication to them. It made sense to her. But the trip tomorrow was no longer about that.

She'd turned 18 three weeks ago. For some reason, she'd always thought that after that birthday, she'd earn the right to make some decisions in her life. But nothing had changed. Shepherd still treated her the same way she always had. Remi felt naïve for assuming that anything would change just because of a birthday. After all, Shepherd controlled everyone in "the family," even those who didn't live with them.

Remi appreciated all that Shepherd had done for them, the stability, the roof, food and clean clothes, and that had given her a sense of duty and indebtedness that had made her a model underling for Shepherd, more of a soldier than a daughter. But their lives were so controlled that it was making Remi crazy. A few weeks earlier, Remi had mentioned the possibility of attending school, and Shepherd shot her down in no uncertain terms. But now Remi realized she wasn't even going to be afforded a single day out on her own.

Everyone Remi had known in recent years had been Shepherd's associates. Whether acquaintances or dates, everyone Remi spoke to was known and approved by Shepherd. And then that damn boy scout showed up. She felt a shiver as she remembered him telling her that he wasn't a little boy. There was just something about him. He wasn't her type, not at all. He was an outsider, not someone she should trust with family secrets. But she wanted to.

He seemed so kind. Honest. Thoughtful. When he spoke to her, she felt like an individual instead of merely a member of the group. He wanted to make her smile. And, god, he was so very nice to look at. His stare was disarming, his smile charming. He was a perfect height, a little taller but not too tall. For a moment she remembered the way he'd looked as he'd helped her in the barn, his tight tee shirt giving her an idea of what was beneath. She was positive he was going to take it off…every guy who'd ever helped her load a truck in that kind of heat did. But he didn't. It figured, the one time she _wanted_ someone to parade around…

Even with his shirt on, she'd found it difficult to maintain an air of indifference. She'd constantly had to remind herself to stay detached. Her mind flashed to the well-defined muscles in his arms as he'd worked, and just as the kitchen began to feel a little too warm, she heard him come in from outside.

"I owe you an apology," he said as he returned, wearing the clothes she'd given him.

"That's not necessary," she replied, realizing that the dog had dropped his head in her lap and she was rubbing his silky soft ears.

"It is necessary. You're right. I don't know you and—"

"Forget it," she interrupted, reaching out for his dirty clothes impatiently, uncertain how to handle this conversation or any of the conversations he'd tried to have with her. Once he'd handed them over, she hurried off to the laundry.

When she came back, he was down on one knee, petting the dog. She didn't tell him that the dog typically was not friendly with strangers. When she saw the canine roll on his back for belly pets, she realized that she wasn't the only one who felt abnormally comfortable with the visitor.

Shepherd came into the room and said to Kurt, "Roman will show you where you'll be sleeping. I'm sure you're tired."

She took a few steps down the hall, and Kurt whispered to Remi, "It _is_ true, I don't really know you…but I would like to."

Remi saw him searching for any reaction from her, but she'd perfected this poker face along ago. Although her exterior was as still as a frozen lake, she was feeling things below the surface that were anything but peaceful.

"Good night," she said, nodding.

"Good night, Remi," he answered, his eyes lingering on hers for a few seconds longer than she'd been prepared for.

* * *

Remi lay in bed an hour later, after she'd thrown the clean, wet clothes into the dryer so they'd be ready by morning. Moments earlier, she'd heard Shepherd on the phone, probably talking to Oscar. She'd told him to be there by seven so he could accompany Remi and Kurt. It infuriated Remi. Was one day of freedom away from the watchful eye of Shepherd and her cohorts truly too much to ask? What was Shepherd so afraid of?

Mostly it upset Remi to think that even though she'd been an almost a perfect soldier, dutiful, loyal, hardworking, and obedient, Shepherd still didn't seem to trust her to have a few hours to herself. Remi looked at her watch and set an alarm. All she wanted was one day. And if they wouldn't give it to her, she was going to take it.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N-Thank you all so much for your continued support and interest. So far this one is going along pretty quickly, so I hope to update every 4-5 days or so (I hope-hehe). I hope you continue to enjoy this.  
**

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

Kurt had been shown to the guest room, and that, too, wasn't what he'd expected. There were six sets of bunkbeds in the room, all appearing to be well-used. It was sort of eerie, being in a room meant for many people, but without anyone else there. He slept in such uneasy bursts that it almost felt like he wasn't sleeping at all, but leaps in time were demonstrated on the glaring red digital clock that hung on the wall.

He closed his eyes, determined to sleep at least a few minutes, but then he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. As hard as he tried, the sensation remained, so he decided to get up and walk over to the bathroom so he could covertly look around for any intruders. If Shepherd had cameras in the room, he didn't want to arouse her suspicions.

When he got to the attached bathroom, he turned on the light and looked back toward the rows of bunks, seeing shapes that appeared to be the supports for the beds above, but there were so many beds and the shadows they cast were so distorted that it was hard to tell. He closed the door behind him and decided he'd rather get the hell out of here than try to sleep, but he'd have to wait for Remi.

Almost on cue, a hand covered his mouth while someone dug a knee into the back of his, making him buckle lower, and then he heard Remi's voice in his ear, whispering, "Stay quiet," which such authority that he wouldn't dare ignore the warning.

Once she was certain he'd heard her, she removed the pressure from the back of his knee and cautiously withdrew her hand from his mouth.

He turned, his eyes wide as adrenaline was already flooding his system, and she mouthed, "Ready to go?" as she handed him his newly cleaned and dried clothes.

"Now?" he mouthed back.

She nodded, pointed to her watch and flashed a five with her fingers, and he knew she was giving him five minutes to ready himself. It only took him three minutes to join her in the hall. He had no idea how she'd ever entered the room.

They crept down the back steps, and he was careful to only allow his feet to touch at the same spots where hers had to avoid any creaks. In all honesty, he was shocked that they hadn't run into Shepherd. The woman always seemed to turn up when he didn't want her around.

When they made it out the back door, he felt intense relief, but then wondered at the same time why they'd had to sneak out in the first place. Remi hopped into a very ordinary looking sedan, one not unlike dozens of other cars he'd pass on any given day.

She started the car, and it was the first real noise she'd made. She drove down the dirt road, dust pillowing behind them. He noted her expression when she glanced in the rearview, and it made him look back as well. There was only one light on in the house behind them. It could be seen through a window on the second floor. The light seemed an abnormally bright yellowish-white, and it surrounded the figure of Shepherd, arms sternly folded, glowering over them as they left.

After patches of corn alternated with the thick green of more wooded areas for over an hour, Kurt decided Shepherd wasn't going to chase them down. This part of the trip was long and repetitive, the road in front of them, lit by the dual cone-shaped range of the headlights, showed dust and tiny bugs that had been disturbed by their travels.

Remi hadn't said a word since they'd left, and he wondered if it was because she was preoccupied with thoughts of Shepherd or if it was simply because she didn't feel the need to converse. Kurt didn't typically mind silence, but the fact that she was ignoring their unplanned escape was somewhat alarming. Did she think he hadn't noticed the strange circumstances that had brought them to the road before dawn?

When he could no longer take her lack of explanation, he asked, a bit sarcastically, "I know you don't need Shepherd's permission to do anything… and that you make your own choices…but if that's true, why did we sneak out?"

"I wanted to get an early start," she replied, her eyes glancing in his direction a few times before she shrugged. "The trip wasn't up for discussion. Sometimes it's easier to take initiative than to wait for approval."

"Is that what we're calling it?" he asked with a slight chuckle. "Initiative?"

Like she seemed to do often, Remi felt no need to answer.

The headlights became less critical as the sun finally began to rise, and when he saw a donut shop on the horizon, he said, "Finally, civilization. Sort of. Can I buy you breakfast?" She looked slightly concerned about the offer, so he added, "It seems like the least I can do to thank you for chauffeuring me around."

* * *

Being forced to run before dawn had been a bit embarrassing, but as they drove away, the main thing she'd felt was the jittery excitement of long awaited freedom. They'd been driving nearly two hours when he asked if they could stop for breakfast, and she wasn't at all ready for a break. In fact, it was tempting to drive north until she crossed the border into Canada.

She felt him glancing over at her, trying to make it look like he wasn't, and then he said, "Nice ink. That one below your wrist…it's so intricate."

Her eyes fell to the newest of her many tattoos, a band around her arm with many smaller geometric shapes embedded in a larger image. The center design on the top of her arm looked almost like a mandala, fastened into place with a band. Of course she doubted that he knew the information hidden in the smaller images within the larger one was worth killing for.

"That's not a flash piece," he commented, the compliment obvious. "Who drew that?"

"I did," she thoughtlessly answered.

"You're quite an artist," he said with interest as she pulled into the parking lot. "Can I see it?" he asked, turning over his hand and waiting patiently.

She shut off the car and then placed her hands down on her thighs for a moment while she thought, then she held her arm out to the side and nodded. He reached over and took her wrist, his touch almost too gentle. His fingers surrounded the shape of her lower arm, his thumb grazing the inside of her palm. She could feel the calloused pads of his fingers, but somehow there was absolutely nothing rough about the way he felt against her skin.

His fascination intrigued her, her focus honed on the expression on his face. With the hand that wasn't supporting her wrist, he reached out with a finger to touch the design, tracing the edges on the darker outer lines.

"That's pretty new, isn't it?" he asked.

 _Less than two weeks_ , she thought, but only replied, "Kinda."

"Did you draw a lot of your designs?"

She thought about telling him yet again that he asked way too many questions, but she found herself bobbing her head, and saying, "All of them," as if her body had momentarily decided to answer even if her mind was trying to pull back.

"You should go to art school," he added somewhat excitedly. "You have some serious talent. Let me guess, did you actually tattoo the pictures onto your body, too?"

"Only two of the small ones," she answered, honestly, but he laughed, assuming it was a joke.

"Come on," he nodded toward the door, "I need some coffee."

He got out of the car and the cautious part of her screamed that she should drive away, leave him there where he could find another ride. She'd already let her guard down way too far. The last time she'd trusted a man, it had been a huge mistake, the experience etched in her soul, and she'd never made the same mistake again. She could hear Shepherd's words in the back of her mind from not so long ago:

 _I hate to say it, Remi, but life has taught you a lesson._

 _You're a piss-poor judge of character, girl. Leave the thinking to me._

No one was ever going to hurt her again. Remi would make absolutely certain of that. Life had taught her to protect herself, and letting her guard down had proven to be a huge mistake the only time she'd remembered doing it. There was a civil war within her, battling between the part of her that had been trained to despise and distrust nearly everyone, and the part that wanted to be effortlessly lured in and allowed to drop her defenses, even for a moment. If she trusted him and it went wrong…it would be squarely on her shoulders. Shepherd wouldn't ever let her forget it.

He put his hands on the window frame on her side of the car and leaned low enough to look through the opening. "Tell me what you want and I'll grab it for you."

"What?" she snapped, turning toward him.

"Breakfast? Remember?" he asked, looking at her like she was completely crazy. "If you want to stay in the car, I'll pick up whatever you want."

"No," she replied, shaking her head. "No, I'll come in."

"You okay?" he asked while they waited in line.

She ignored the question and stepped up to the counter, quickly placing her order. He paid, just as he'd said he would, and of course he carried their food over to a table for them.

She'd had guys make attempts to be romantic, even sweet, but she had always been certain they'd only been trying to get laid. But Kurt was confounding, in a way, because he drew so little attention to his actions that they seemed somehow more genuine. He wasn't performing a show or some mating ritual to lure her in and lower her defenses. He was just being…him. She suspected that if he were trying to romance someone, he could probably do better than coffee and a donut. So she didn't quite understand his interest in her or what it meant. She'd tried to explain it away, to decide that she simply wasn't his type, but she saw the attraction in his eyes, the way she could make him redden slightly so easily, even when he tried to play it cool.

The sound of his laugh made her realize that he'd been talking and she hadn't paid attention to any of it. Then she listened to the rest, a story about his little sister's persistence when she wanted information, and the fact that she'd always asked her big brother the most inappropriate questions. The girl sounded kind of annoying to Remi, but she could see the fondness he felt when he talked about Sarah. As she listened to the story, she heard a sound that seemed unknown to her, and realized that the tiny noise was the sound of her own short but honest giggle.

* * *

They only had to drive another hour before they made it to Clearfield. Kurt gave her directions, and she looked at the neatly decorated and extremely welcoming house. She asked, "You grew up here? Figures."

"Nah. This is my sister's friend's place. She stays here a lot on the weekends because…" Kurt paused, and Remi saw a look on his face that felt too familiar. Even this boy scout had secrets, things that were so painful that he wasn't willing to discuss them. "…because she and her friend are always together anyway," he finally finished his sentence.

She was about to ask him when he wanted to be picked up so she could take him to the train station, assuming that he didn't want some strange person lurking around while he caught up with his sister, but the front door opened and blond girl in pajamas ran out into the lawn. "Kurt!" the girl yelled, dashing over a gravelly walkway that probably hurt her feet.

He stepped out of the car as the girl ran, and the moment she was close enough, she practically leapt into his hug, throwing her arms around her brother's neck, her face so full of unadulterated joy that it explained everything Remi needed to know about the relationship between the brother and sister. It was the first time she thought maybe someone would really understand her connection to Roman.

Then Remi wondered what Kurt and Sarah had survived together to bring them so close.

Remi flinched when he looked back and realized she'd been watching the exchange, so he stepped back from the hug and said, "This is Remi. Remi, this is Sarah." He turned back to his sister and said, "She's the reason I was able to get here."

"You are, like, _so_ amazing," the girl said, hurrying around to the driver's side, opening the door and reaching in to give Remi a very thorough and somewhat invasive hug. "Thank you so much." Sarah seemed to have no idea how unwelcome the hug was.

"No problem," Remi said, confused by the intrusion into her personal space. Everyone else in the world seemed to heed her non-verbal warnings to keep their distance. There must be something strange with the whole Weller family, since they seemed immune to her silent threats, she silently mused.

"I'm going to go get dressed," Sarah said, trotting back to the house. "Jen can come…right?"

"Uh," Kurt looked toward Remi, who only shrugged.

Before they could answer, Sarah shouted, "Thanks," and disappeared into the house.

Kurt got back in the car, drumming his fingers on the dashboard for a few seconds before he said, "I should have warned you, she can be a bit…"

"Yea. A bit," Remi answered back.

He chuckled and smiled at her, and she didn't care for the way such an ordinary gesture stirred feelings that were supposed to be long dead.

* * *

Kurt could tell Remi was not used to having two teen girls in the back of her car, talking a mile a minute. Only two minutes into the drive, Sarah said, "Jen's uncle has that waterfront cabin at Raystown. And he's on some cruise to Jamaica."

Kurt turned, "And?"

"Well I thought we could use his place. You could go back to school tomorrow."

Jen leaned up over the seat so she was between Kurt and Remi in the front. "He has boats and jet skis, and fishing. It's awesome. We've all been there. Tell her, Kurt."

"It's a nice offer," he said, "but Remi has to get home tonight so she's taking me to the train station this evening."

"I guess we could hang out at home…" Sarah began, the threat obvious.

"I'll buy you a train ticket for tomorrow," Jen snippily replied. "Come on… _please_."

Growing irritated, Kurt explained, "Remi still has to get home. She went very far out of her way to—"

"It's fine," Remi answered calmly, glancing at him as she drove to display her certainty.

"But, Shepherd? And—"

"I said it's fine. I'll just make a call."

Kurt knew it wasn't going to be so easy, and he guessed Remi would have to pay dearly for the additional hours away from the farm. At the same time, he wanted her to stay.

"Or are you chickening out? All that talk about how you could prove to me that you know how to have fun?" Remi taunted.

"Fine. Challenge accepted," he answered immediately, happier than he cared to show that she was going to spend the day with them.

* * *

The group stopped at a convenience store, and Sarah and Jen decided to go inside for snacks while Kurt fueled up. Remi went to the payphone beside the building, taking a steadying breath before she called Shepherd. The older woman was most certainly displeased, even though Remi, via code, told her that she was checking out an opportunity that may help their cause. Remi knew Shepherd had doubts. She also knew that her early escape had earned her Shepherd's full fury upon her return.

Once she hung up, Remi decided to focus on her day of freedom, and enjoy it to its fullest before accepting the consequences. The younger girls stepped out of the store carrying several bags, both laughing and chatting, and Remi wondered what it felt like to live such a normal life.

A couple of boys approached the girls, and blocked their path to the car. "Sarah Weller," the blond-haired guy said. "Good to see you."

Remi immediately noticed that Sarah didn't look as happy to see him.

"We were leaving," Sarah said, taking her friend's hand and trying to walk around.

"Why are you in such a hurry?" the guy asked.

"I just don't feel like talking to you. Now get out of my way," Sarah responded. Sarah looked young and sweet, but Remi appreciated her underlying attempt at toughness.

"I don't see your brother around," the guy taunted. "Be careful how you talk to me when he's not here to hide behind."

"Hey, we saw your old man," a darker-haired, much taller boy said. "He was down at the preschool looking for dates."

The two guys cackled oddly, congratulating themselves for the jab.

"Does he still send your brother ahead to scout for prospects?" the blond boy added.

Remi saw Kurt was just finishing pumping gas, facing the other direction, so he had no idea what was going on nearby.

When Sarah and Jen tried again to get away, the boys stepped closer, still blocking them. Remi had had enough. She hurried over, stepping into the tiny space in front of the girls as she said, "They're ready to leave now. So get the hell out of the way."

"Looks like the Wellers hired a body guard," one retorted.

"How cute," the other fake giggled.

Remi looked over her shoulder and signaled for Sarah and her friend to leave. They walked around the guys and went back to the car, and Remi could see Sarah recounting the events to Kurt.

They continued mocking, something that Remi had tuned out, but one made a sudden movement that made her react. Later, in retrospect, she wouldn't be sure if he had even meant to hit her, but instinct kicked in and she quickly grabbed both boys' hands and crossed them, using the forearm of one to hit the radial nerve of the other. The darker-haired boy who'd received the radial nerve blow stepped back, feverishly rubbing his arm as he tried to figure out why it hurt so bad.

Calmly keeping the wrist of the other boy, Remi precisely pinched a pressure point in his hand, and watched him sink down to his knees. At that point, Kurt was hurrying over to help, but she leaned down and said to the blond boy, "You won't go near Sarah Weller again."

He bobbed his head so quickly that she thought he might hurt himself. "Yea, yea."

"Say it," she coolly continued, "Say, 'I won't go near—'"

Interrupting her, his voice strained with panic, he said, "I won't go near Sarah Weller again."

"Everything okay?" Kurt asked as he approached, his eyes surveying the situation.

"My buddy and I were just having a chat," Remi sweetly said. Turning back to the boy, she added, "Wait…what were we talking about?"

"I won't go near her again. I swear," the kid grunted.

"So glad we understand each other," Remi replied, as she let go and focused on his companion. "And how about you?"

"I get it," the darker-haired one said, taking off without his friend and running down the road.

Kurt's eyes were downcast, and she knew that whatever secrets hung over him had caused him and his family great pain. "I should have warned you," he began.

"That people can be asses?" she chuckled. "I knew that already."

"Stuff like that happens sometimes…my family…," Kurt started, still avoiding her gaze. "It's complicated. But thanks for looking out for my sister."

Remi just nodded. She knew he wasn't ready to talk about any of this, and she understood exactly how that felt. "Ready to go?" she asked.

"Yea," he said, offering her a smile, although the sadness hadn't left his face.

His posture made him appear embarrassed by his past, but she found she liked him more as truths behind his exterior began to show. From what she could discern, this family's history had probably shaped his life, a dark cloud over him that followed him wherever he went. He wasn't some privileged brat. Although he seemed to think this was a reason to feel ashamed, she didn't see it that way. If anything the growing complexities of this man's life made him more interesting.

* * *

Once they were back on the road, Kurt listened while the girls in the back chattered excitedly. He hated Clearfield. In his early years, he'd loved his home and the outdoors that seemed to exist just for adventure. He grew to hate it so thoroughly that it felt like he couldn't breathe when he was there. If not for Sarah, he wouldn't have ever returned. He had everything planned out. He was going to help pay for her college somewhere far away. It was what kept him working and saving, the reason why he'd already sold so many years of his life to the military.

He'd been excited to have Remi with him, but he regretted that she was already starting to figure out his background. Although they were back in the car again for another long drive, at least they wouldn't be in Clearfield. He hoped they wouldn't see anyone they knew at Raystown. He also hoped that Remi wouldn't hate his guts when she learned of his family's history.

* * *

They were lucky enough to arrive at the lake on one of those perfect days when the sun shone unobstructed but a breeze kept the day pleasant. The "cabin" certainly wasn't a fancy log home, but rather an older single-wide trailer with a sunroom addition on the front to create additional living space. Jen sprang from the car and ran for the hide-a-day.

The girls were already inside as Kurt and Remi shut their car doors. He leaned his wrists on the roof of the car, facing her, and said, "Did it go alright?" her expression seemed confused, so he clarified, "The phone call…with Shepherd?"

She nodded, but he could see the momentary flash of concern on her face before she became stoic again. Jen leaned out the door and said, "There's only two bedrooms. Kurt, you're with me." The girl beamed at him.

"No thanks, jailbait," he responded, smirking at her, hitting the roof of the car and walking toward the cabin offering, "I'll take the sofa."

He walked past Jen and she flirted, "I won't be jailbait forever."

He paused, looked down at her pensively, and said, "I'm well aware. That's why I'm conducting a thorough search of all of the underclassmen to find an eligible guy. So when you turn legal, I can offer him up as a sacrifice to save myself."

"You're a jerk, you know that?" Jen laughed.

He went inside and dropped some of the plastic grocery bags on the 70s style orange sofa. He heard Jen whisper to Remi, "What about you? You hitting that?"

Kurt was kind of interested in hearing Remi's answer, but she sounded more disgusted than anything. "Who, Kurt?" Remi scoffed. "No."

Jen stared at Remi, a bit surprised, then looked at Kurt and said, "Well that's gotta hurt."

"Why?" Remi asked.

"Well you could have just said 'no' instead of acting like it was the worst option in the world," Jen laughed.

"It's not him. I'm just not really into dating," Remi clarified.

Jen and Sarah took off to the bedroom so the two could change. Remi approached Kurt and said, "I didn't mean that to come out like—"

"No, I get it," he interrupted. "There's a guy down the block with a really huge hump, one eye and a hellish rash. I'll take you down to meet him later so you can make him feel better about himself, too."

Remi shook her head, but he saw the smile she offered at his joke. "Sounds like a good time," she answered.

The girls ran out in bikinis and Jen offered one to Remi, but Remi shook her head, "No thanks."

"Some guy Jen likes has a place up here," Sarah told Kurt. "We're going to take a quick ride down there to see if he's around. I'll be back later. Meet you here at three, and then we'll hang out for the rest of the evening? I promise."

"Sure," Kurt answered, realizing that the entire group had probably been convinced to come here just so Jen could meet up with someone. Kurt didn't comment, trying to avoid his criticisms of Sarah's friend because he knew how well that usually went over.

The younger pair took off without another word, and Kurt and Remi heard the younger girls fire up a jetski and take off together across the lake. For some reason, being at the cabin with Remi felt much more _alone_ than the early morning car ride had. "So what do you want to do? Swim or take out the boat? They have a hammock if you want to take a nap," he asked.

"A nap? Is that what you like to do? You're Mr. Funtime right?" she teased.

"I like the boat."

"Fine, let's go," she said.

She pulled off her shirt, wearing one of those sinful tank tops again, and rolled up the bottom of her pants. He dropped his shirt on the sofa next to hers and definitely caught her looking him over, although he couldn't tell what her overall assessment was. While his brain told him to tease her about the view, he found being studied by her sort of intimidating, so the only word that he managed was, "Ready?"

They went out to the boat and he turned on the motor, relieved that it started up without a lot of finagling. He backed out of the spot carefully, and then grinned as he said, "Hang on!"

She looked surprised when they took off, and a second later, she looked really happy. The wind tussled her hair in every direction, and he saw her close her eyes and face the sun, a subtle smile etched on her face. It made him feel happier than he remembered feeling in ages. They crossed the lake a few times, and he turned the controls over to her, and let her fly. And damn she really flew! His heart got quite a workout between staring at her beautiful form and absorbing the scares she gave him as she narrowly missed every obstacle. When she truly made him feel that she was going to crash into a dock, he got up and shouted so she could hear over the motor, "Let me drive a while."

She lay down in the bottom of the boat, stretching out and soaking in the warmth of the sun. Remi was definitely the most gorgeous woman he'd ever seen, and not telling her was a bigger struggle than admitting it.

He found one of his favorite spots and angled the boat through the curtain of a low hanging weeping willow. She looked up under the canopy of pale green drooping leaves. It was strangely quieter under there, the water patiently sloshing against the muddy bank, a nest of baby birds above angrily demanding their dinner. He couldn't take his eyes off her, off of the wonder she seemed to feel from simply being under that tree. He sat down in the boat, reaching out to hold a root to keep the boat in place until he tied it there. Even when he was finished, she was still looking around, soaking up the moment. He had the feeling that her world was full of experiences, and she'd probably seen and heard things many people hadn't, but these ordinary moments spent in nature had probably been in short supply.

He got out of the boat, which made it rock, so she looked at him. Sticking his foot in the boat to hold it close, he reached out for her arm and said, "Come on."

He was certainly surprised when she took his offered hand before she hopped onto the bank. Her shoes squished into the mud, sinking slightly.

Worried that she didn't want to traipse through the sludge, he offered, "We can get back in the boat, if you want. There's a waterfall up that way that pops up sometimes if there's been enough rain. But we don't have to go if—"

She hurried past him and said, more like they were on a mission than taking a walk, "Let's move."

* * *

Remi walked with Kurt to the waterfalls, alternating between trying to compare this experience to anything else she'd ever known and thinking about the man beside her.

She wasn't exactly sure why he was being so nice. When they'd gone in the house, he'd said he'd be sleeping on the sofa rather than suggesting that they share a room, so it certainly didn't appear that he was trying to get her into bed. He really hadn't done or said anything inappropriate. He hadn't even hit on her when they were alone in the car. Apart from the fact that she'd occasionally catch his eyes on her, he'd been a perfect gentleman.

They made it to the small waterfall, hearing more of a babble than a rush. "Not much rain lately, I guess," he said as they watched the narrow stream ambling along the rocks until it spilled down to the next level.

"It's beautiful," she said, watching the path of the water with fascination. Just because it wasn't loud or showy didn't mean it wasn't pretty. If anything, she could see the cautious dance as the water found lower points with less resistance to follow, eventually tumbling down to lower and lower steps.

She sat on her knees and studied it, feeling a strange peace that usually resulted from ignoring her reality rather than being immersed in it. In some ways, this waterfall was like him. He wasn't loud or pushy, he didn't feel the need to be in her face or performing for her, but in his somewhat understated way, he seemed more impressive than most of the people she'd known. She wondered if she was seeing the real Kurt, or if it was all an act. He sat next to her on a rock, watching, and then he said, "Pretty lame, hunh?"

"No," she shook her head. "I really like it. It's so..." the words didn't come, but he didn't seem to mind, so she observed for a little longer.

After a while, she sat down next to him, and asked, "You hate Clearfield?"

"Uhh," he said, staring up toward the sun where it snuck between leaves, "yea. I do."

"Your father—"

"I don't want to talk about him, Remi, please," he said, truly making a request instead of a demand.

"I just want to know one thing."

"Okay," he sighed.

"You hate him, too?"

He looked at her, momentarily studying her face before he finally replied. "I do. I know that sounds horrible. But I really do."

"It sounds like the truth," she nonjudgmentally replied.

"Look, Remi, there are things about my family…things that you'll be able to find out if you poke around. You've probably figured a lot of it out already."

"I don't care."

"You don't care?" he asked, sounding like those words were especially cruel.

"I didn't mean it like that…I meant that I don't care what your family did. Or what people say about you or your father. People say a lot of things."

"They do. And some of those things are true."

"I judge people based on what I observe, not on other people's opinions. I assess what a person does, how they act in ordinary situations. Other people's opinions of them…well, that doesn't really matter to me at all. I've been told some people are great…salt of the earth, good guys, heroes, and sometimes I believed it. And some of those times, those people have proven that popular opinion is very, very wrong."

She felt her throat tighten slightly, barely enough to notice, but he seemed to pick up on everything. She felt like he was going to ask about it, but mercifully he didn't. She wasn't going to talk about any of that with him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him nod and then they returned to an easy silence.

After quite a while, they stood to leave. He told her to mind the rocks near the edge because they were slippery, and then they began the walk back. Once they were at the boat, he wedged his foot inside again to hold it steady so she could board. He held a hand out, allowing her to take it only if she wished. She stood in front of him, and she could see that he seemed surprised by her proximity to him.

She felt for a second like she wasn't entirely in control of her actions. She pressed her toes into the ground as she lifted her heels, put one hand on his shoulder, and very, very gently, brought her lips to his. She wasn't even sure if it could be considered a kiss, or just a passing flutter. Then she held there, only for a couple of heartbeats, her lips staggered between his, before she lowered her heels back to the ground. "Thanks for today," she said as she stepped past him onto the boat.

His face was blank, mouth slightly open, like he was thoroughly stunned, and then, slowly, he began to smile. Irritated that he didn't pretend like nothing had happened, she said, "Are you just gonna stand there?"

He chuckled and shook his head, saying, "Of course not. Let's go."

As they sped back to the dock, her momentary enjoyment of the day slipped away, replaced by Shepherd's words of disapproval, echoing in her head. This wasn't her reality. Her life wasn't about water-front cabins, boat rides with beautiful men, and kisses on the bank of a lake. She was a soldier, an operative. It was a glimpse of a life she could have had, but never would.

She heard him say her name and turned, and through the sideways veil of her hair, she could see his smile. He reached out to her, carefully brushing the strands back from her eyes and tucking some of them behind her ear. "That's better," he noted. She was convinced he was about to say something sappy or sweet, something that she could sneer at and use to push him away, and then he simply added, "For a minute there I thought Cousin It hopped on board."

Her shoulders shifted as she chuckled. Although his words teased, his face conveyed other thoughts entirely. For some reason, that made everything harder.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N-Please note, the rating for this story has changed to M. Thank you all so much for reading!**

* * *

 **Chapter 4  
**

Back at the cabin, Sarah was sitting at the dock, looking somewhat forlorn. Kurt knew without asking that her friend had left her behind in pursuit of something else, most likely a guy. Although he felt bad for her, it would be nice to have some time with his sister without her annoying friend.

Kurt and Remi hung out with Sarah, enjoying what remained of a warm afternoon well into the evening. They heated ham and cheese sandwiches on the grill and ate the snacks they'd brought. Remi mostly absorbed the conversation, rarely chiming in, but she looked content as she listened to the siblings catch up. Shortly after sunset, the three were still outside chatting when Jen came stumbling back, inebriated and cranky.

Sarah hurried inside to take care of her friend, as she often did. When she returned, she sat next to Remi and asked, "That move you pulled earlier, when you got those idiots to leave us alone?"

"What about it?" Remi asked, appearing hesitant to discuss the topic.

"Can you teach me?"

Remi looked at Kurt, who replied, "That's your call."

He watched as Remi showed Sarah a few basic moves, and he was surprised at the extent of her knowledge. In time, it truly looked like Remi was enjoying her session with such a willing pupil, and he was happy Sarah was learning some ways to protect herself.

After a short while, Remi motioned for Kurt to join them, and when he did, she showed him where to stand and said, "Stay right here."

Remi had Sarah practice the radial nerve move, and she knew she had it right when Kurt yanked his arm away and hissed. "I wish I would have known this stuff when I was little," Sarah grinned.

Remaining serious, Remi stood next to Kurt and instructed Sarah, "Now, we're going to come at you, and you try the same thing, but hit his arm with the bone in my arm."

Sarah tried a few times unsuccessfully before she got it, and then danced around in celebration when she got her larger brother to flinch again.

"Your opponents may not take you too seriously if you jump around like that," Kurt teased. "You're supposed to take the opportunity to get the hell out of there."

Remi showed Sarah a few more things, often using Kurt as their practice dummy. Mostly he didn't mind, although he felt a sore spot forming by his kidney where Remi had gotten in one really good punch. When he decided he was done being roughed up, he lightheartedly asked, "You have a lot of unruly livestock at home?"

"What?" Sarah questioned.

"Remi lives on a farm. I figured maybe she learned this stuff to keep control of their herds," Kurt said, still joking.

Remi immediately looked less happy, and said, "I need to grab a drink."

Once Remi disappeared, Sarah shoved Kurt in the chest and asked, "What the hell did you do that for, dumbass?"

"It was a joke," he argued.

"Well it bugged her. You need to fix it. She's nice. And _way_ cuter than any girl you've ever had a shot with. So far out of your league!"

"Gee thanks, Baby Sis," he sarcastically interjected. "You know, many women find me incredibly handsome."

Sarah made a gagging sound and retorted, "You're incredibly _annoying_ ," before she smiled at him sweetly. She really did adore her brother. With kindness in her eyes, she added, "Make it right with her. She's quiet, but she's kinda cool. And for some reason I'll never get, she seems to like you."

"No," he scoffed. Then, more seriously, he asked, "You think she does?"

Sarah nodded with a slightly gloating smile, keeping her back to Remi when she returned. Facing Kurt and winking, Sarah said, "I better get to bed. Thanks for the tips, Remi."

Remi still seemed surprised by the uninvited hugs, but that didn't dampen Sarah's enthusiasm while offering them in the least. Once Sarah had gone, he asked, "I upset you?"

"Nope," Remi answered, leaning against the picnic table, keeping a little distance.

"Where did you learn all that?"

"Martial arts class."

He nodded, feeling a little annoyed that she had expected the truth from him by the waterfall, but she seemed to be lying to him.

He knew she was watching him, it was hard to escape her watchful gaze, and she already appeared to be rather adept at reading him. She confessed, "Sometimes, people teach really young kids to fight like that. And not for the best reasons."

"Kids like you?" he asked, stunned and saddened by the revelation, but pleased that she'd opened up a little.

She nodded only once, then looked away as she said, "I don't really like talking about it."

"Thanks for trusting me."

"I don't know if I do," she replied, sighing with frustration.

"You can trust me," he offered, taking a few patient steps toward her until she was close enough to touch. He leaned in only a bit, and for a split second he saw her come closer, and then she pulled back, and sharply turned away.

"You seem to be a decent person," she stated firmly.

"I am. I mean…I try to be."

"But I'm not," she answered stiffly. "That's the point. And if you knew me, you wouldn't like me."

"Don't say that. Why would you say that?"

"Because it's true."

"You spent the day driving me around even though it pissed off Shepherd, and probably got you nothing but a shitload of trouble at home. Then you helped protect my sister from a couple of bullies and taught her some moves to defend herself in the future," he challenged.

"This was not a normal day for me. And you're nice and good looking and kind of funny, and I was having a good time, so I started to forget who I am…for a minute. But it doesn't change anything. Thanks for letting me pretend for a day. But tomorrow that's over, and it's back to normal."

"Hang on," he shook his head, trying to sound reassuring, "let me get to know you, and I'll decide for myself."

"You don't know what you're saying," she argued. Stepping away from him, she added, "Good night, Kurt."

* * *

He felt like, with Remi, everything was always two-steps-forward-one-step-back. Kurt locked up the house, checking the doors twice. Everyone else was asleep, his sister and her friend in one room, Remi in the other. He was left in the living room, alone with his thoughts.

He stripped down to his boxers, folded his clothes, and put them on the coffee table before he flopped onto the sofa and hoped for sleep. He should have been exhausted after the previous night at the weird farmhouse, but all he could think of was Remi, and how damn hot it was in the living room. The bedrooms had air conditioners, but the living room didn't, and he was frustrated and uncomfortable, and trying like hell to figure out how to slow down the impending separation. He wasn't even asking for much, simply to see her again, an opportunity to get to know her a little better. He felt like a man hoping for a stay of execution.

He tried to shift himself around on the sofa to find a good spot, but he was too tall to fit, and the sofa was lumpy, and that spot where Remi had kidney punched him definitely didn't feel great. He heard a door whine as it opened, and he hoped to hell Jen hadn't decided to get up. He didn't feel at all like dealing with her. A few seconds later, he saw Remi standing at the end of the sofa. She was wearing a shirt that only just barely fell to her thighs. He wasn't sure where she'd found the shirt, but she looked absolutely stunning. Then he wondered if he'd already died, and this was hell, and he was going to spend eternity staring at her like that while she kept him at bay.

His voice hoarse, he asked, "Is something wrong?"

"No," she replied, shaking her head, looking absently around the room. "I couldn't sleep."

"The air conditioner working okay?"

"Yea. It's fine." She looked deep in thought. "You're not asleep either?"

"What is it, Remi? What's wrong?" he asked, moving his legs against the back of the sofa so she could sit. He pointed to the spot that had opened up.

She sat down and leaned forward, her elbows braced on her knees, and without looking at him said, "If things were different…," and then she finally glanced at him in time to catch his nod.

"Tell me," he encouraged.

"You're a nice guy. Decent."

"Why do you say that like it's a bad thing? And I'm not _that_ nice," he argued.

She breathed a laugh and said, "It's not a bad thing. I just—I can't figure you out."

"Then you're overthinking it. Because I'm not a very complicated guy."

Shifting the conversation, she asked, "How's your back?"

"My back? Fine, why?" he huffed.

With one knuckle she poked his side, tapping the spot that she'd hit earlier, and he cringed. "That's why," she said. He laughed, but she looked apologetic. "I wasn't trying to hit you that hard."

He moved up on the sofa, one hand behind his head as he propped himself up, teasing, "I think I'll survive." Feeling like he could hear the time ticking away before their departure, he suggested, "Let me take you out some time. On a real date. I'll be a complete gentleman. Or _not_ …if you prefer."

For a second, she looked at his mischievous expression and appeared amused, perhaps even tempted. But then she shook her head and resolutely replied, "That's not gonna happen."

"Why not? We could meet half way, or I'll come up to your place. And—"

"I'm really busy. I have a lot of work to do. Some of it is dangerous. Trust me, you don't want to get mixed up with me or my family."

"Pitchfork accidents?" he joked, knowing perfectly well that she didn't live on an ordinary farm.

She wordlessly scowled.

"Why not just give me a chance?" he asked. "What do you have to lose? You said yourself that you had fun today. We could spend some time together. You could try to prove to me how horrible you are. And I can show you how indecent I can be."

His double entendre hung in the air, and it seemed to catch her attention. She turned and leaned a little closer, and for some reason it felt like he was still a step behind her. But when she braced her weight on the arm rest and her face neared his, he started to catch up pretty quickly.

He felt her lips meet his, nudging them apart, and the moment he complied, she ran her tongue along the opening of his mouth. He groaned instantly, feeling a sharp contrast from the delicate kiss by the lake and this one. There was absolutely nothing tentative or hesitant about her actions anymore. Her hand moved to his chest, and her fingers brushed over his bare skin. He hadn't expected an encounter like this when he'd stripped down to go to sleep. Half of him wished he had a little more cover, and the other half wished she had a little less.

Her other hand began at his collarbone, her fingers tracing the shape before reaching behind his neck, tickling the soft hairs at the base of his skull. This kiss sure as hell didn't feel innocent as she welcomed his tongue into her mouth with a raspy sigh.

He kept his hands where they were, one behind his head and one flat on the sofa. After all, she seemed to be okay when _she_ instigated a kiss, but when he'd tried to kiss her earlier, she'd pulled away. He didn't want to risk the chance that she'd withdraw again. She stretched out along his body, her legs entangling with his as she settled on top of him. It wasn't like there was any way she didn't notice how hard he already was. Not that he minded. She was the one controlling this, and if she wanted to go, she could have easily enough.

His hands remained idle, his fingers physically pinching the edge of the upholstery to remind him not to grab onto her thigh. He wanted to touch her more than he wanted to take his next breath. Like she was following a manuscript written just to torture him, she opened her legs and straddled him, her knees next to his hips. Her shirt had ridden up, and the only thing separating him from her molten core was their thin cotton underwear.

He could feel the skin of her inner thighs rubbing against him, her breasts brushing against his chest with only her shirt covering them, in his mind simply waiting for his mouth. It felt like a delicate balancing act that one wrong move could tear asunder. She sat up, her palms on his stomach, fingers wrapped around his sides. She couldn't seem to hold still, shifting and rocking over him, creating delightful sensations that embellished this moment of longing.

Trying to figure out what she wanted was impossible even when his mind was fully functioning, but at that moment it was beyond impossible. He remained there, numbly, hoping for a sign. Was he supposed to touch her or not? Did she want him to fumble under her shirt, to reach around her back and hold her close? Should he let his hands move over her thighs? Should he get up, wrap her legs around his waist and carry her back to her bed?

"Sorry," she finally said, breathless, looking down at him with the most intense desire he'd ever seen, followed by worry and regret, like he could see her reproving herself for her recklessness.

He felt a tightness in his chest, bordering on panic, and whispered, "Don't go. You feel so good."

Lifting his back from the sofa to meet her, he initiated a kiss this time, but she didn't pull away. He was trying to be tender, but did not fail to demonstrate that his interest was more than platonic. He slowly reclined back down on the sofa, feeling her follow willingly, falling onto him again. Keeping his fingers against the upholstery, he allowed only his thumb to graze her thigh, and she answered with the softest gasp he'd ever heard. He wondered if she, too, was wishing the clothing between them would disappear, if she was imagining what it would be like to feel him inside her.

That was the only thought he managed to entertain. That, and the fact that he was probably going to die from need, lying on that hideous, uncomfortable sofa, making out with the hottest woman in the world.

Since she'd allowed his thumb on her leg, he walked his remaining fingers, one at a time, to her skin. She not only permitted it, but took his other hand and placed it on her hip, pressing down on him so seductively that he was positive the night was about to head in a very favorable direction. Her skin was like worn silk, and in spite of her undeniable toughness, she was so soft and inviting, so wonderfully female.

One of the bedroom doors flung open behind the sofa, and they heard someone running for the bathroom. Remi stopped kissing him, sinking down even closer so she would be hidden by the back of the sofa, should anyone look in their direction. It gave him a minute to notice that her fingers were on the waistband of his boxers, and he wondered where they'd been headed when they were so rudely interrupted.

Her cheek pressed to his shoulder, he looked into her eyes, and they shared a warm smile that was allowed to last beyond a second. She had the most aroused and arousing expression on her face, full of a need for fulfillment, and, with lips parted, brought her mouth to his again in a delicately reassuring touch. And then they heard the sound of Jen vomiting in the bathroom, and both paused, staring at each other wide-eyed before they began to laugh.

They were trying like hell not to be heard. Through his chuckle, he whispered in her ear, "Never let it be said that Kurt Weller doesn't know how to show a lady a good time."

She began to laugh hard, her body shaking, her cheek pressed against his skin, and he realized that, even if just for a minute, she was truly happy. He knew, without the slightest qualification, that she would be so easy to fall for.

They heard Jen stumble back to the bedroom, complaining with each footstep. Once the door was closed, Remi said, "I have great timing, don't I?"

"The best," he grinned, but she shot him a cool-off look.

He could clearly see that she was putting an end to this encounter. He thought about trying his luck, suggesting that they go to her room and lock the door, but didn't want to make her feel angry or pressured. Instead he said, "We're both awake, so wanna go out back? Probably cooler out there, and I'm not tired anyway."

For a moment, her face was blank. What he wouldn't do to know what was going on in that head of hers.

"Sure. Okay," she answered, somewhat unexpectedly.

He grabbed the rest of his clothes from the table, holding them in front of himself so he could have some measure of privacy. "Give me a minute. I'll be right back," he said.

* * *

She dropped her head in her hands once he'd left. She was out of control. Why couldn't she have left well enough alone? They'd already gone their separate ways for the evening, found different beds, and yet she went out to talk to him again, throwing herself into his arms. The blame for this lay squarely on her shoulders. Even as she chastised herself, she tried to remember ever feeling something so inviting between her thighs. She could have spent ten minutes just tracing the muscles etched in his torso while his hands roamed her body. She'd wanted him so badly, craved his mouth and his hands and his…damn, she really needed to stop this.

She didn't know how to tell him that she'd been in her room, tossing and turning, her mind and body unable to stop wanting to be near him. She wasn't typically so indecisive, but, in truth, she'd rarely been presented with the opportunity to make her own decisions. The only decisions she typically made were split-second life or death choices that involved instinct more than thought. She wasn't sure if instincts or hormones were guiding her behavior that night. He would probably never understand. She was certain this was the last time they'd see each other. She had several upcoming missions, and she wasn't sure if she was going to survive them.

The truth would have likely been the most effective deterrent, but telling a guy like him, "I probably won't see you again because I'll be dead," didn't seem like the wisest option. She'd only known him a short time, but she already knew he'd be immediately ready to try to jump in and save the day. She would never willingly lure him into that world.

Returning from the bathroom fully dressed, he nodded his head toward the door. "Ready?"

Grabbing her pants from her room and walking into them, she followed him outside. The few clouds in front of the quarter moon were brightly opalescent, shimmering as they drifted through the sky. She watched Kurt gathering a few sticks to build a fire in the pit, and he asked, "You like toasted marshmallows? I saw they have a bag."

"I dunno," she said, still staring up at the night sky.

"Are you serious? You don't know?"

She shrugged, surprised by his ardent reaction. He crossed his arms and shook his head and declared, "That is just completely unacceptable. See, this is why you should hang around me a _lot_ more."

She tried to scowl, but fell short, watching with interest while he hurried around and started a small but adequate fire and let it settle. Once it was established enough, he took two longer sticks, skewered a couple of marshmallows, and gave her instructions. She found his specificity amusing, but decided she didn't feel like being told what to do. She shoved her stick right into the heart of the fire and watched while the whole thing lit like a mini-torch. She blew out the flames and bragged, "Mine's ready and you're still sitting there turning yours."

"But yours isn't as good," he shot back.

"How do you know?" she playfully argued. "Maybe I like the outside burnt."

"The outside isn't the issue," he stated, his tone suggesting that this was a deeply philosophical matter. "The problem is that you didn't give the center time to get melty."

"Sugar is sugar."

"It's not," he shook his head, scandalized. "Go ahead. Eat your crappy marshmallow."

Remi huffed and ate hers, arguing as soon as she swallowed, "It tasted fine."

Kurt was not swayed from his task, continuing, occasionally pulling the marshmallow from the fire and poking it with his finger to test it while she made fun of him. When he was satisfied, he stood up, walking around the fire to her side. He sat down on his haunches next to her and held his carefully crafted snack out for her to taste. "Try it," he said, making it clear that he wanted her to take a bite while he held it. She tried to grab it from him, but he pulled back and said, "No. Because if you take it, you'll realize how good it is and hog the whole thing."

Hesitantly, she leaned forward, sinking her teeth into the treat. As she sat back, determined to continue teasing him, she decided not to bother lying. "Fine. It's better like this."

He chuckled, pointing at her after he finished the rest and saying, "You missed some."

She looked down at her shirt, searching for the missing piece, and when he didn't help, she said, "You just going to sit there and laugh at me?"

"Probably," he replied. When she glared this time, he capitulated, "Fine. Come here."

She leaned closer, and he brought his hand to her cheek as she waited patiently for him to brush the offending piece away. Instead he leaned closer, looking her in the eyes and holding her gaze. This kind of connection, as nice as it felt, was exactly the type of thing she needed to avoid. But she couldn't look away. He covered her bottom lip with his, sliding his tongue over the sensitive flesh as he hummed, "Mmm," backed away slightly, and said, "delicious."

When he returned his mouth to hers, she felt her heart being tugged at too powerfully, and put her hand on his chest to stop him, although she continued kissing him for a few seconds longer than she should have. "Make me another marshmallow?" she requested.

He sighed for a second before he nodded, "Sure."

After he was crouched down, she tried to explain, "I'm not the type of person who hops into bed with every guy I meet."

He looked up from the fire, his eyes perplexed, and he stated, "I never said you were."

"Well—"

"The only thing I've asked you for is a date."

"I know that."

"Just tell me what you want…besides this," he said, holding out the stick so she could take the marshmallow.

She thought of several things she wanted, but as a very delicate breeze made the flames in the fire flicker, the thing she wanted most of all was for the night to never end. "I want to sleep out here. On the hammock. With you."

"Okay," he started to smirk.

"Just sleep, nothing else."

"That's fine," he agreed.

She went inside to pull a blanket from the bed since it was surprisingly cooler in the night air. She didn't understand his patience, or how accommodating he was. He didn't seem at all disappointed by her suggestion. He wasn't manipulating or begging for sex, nor was he pushing her away after she cooled things off between them. She was never going to understand him, or her seemingly unending fascination with him.

* * *

The hammock swayed with the pair in the middle. One nice thing about a hammock was that everything sort of fell to the center, so it was a good excuse to be close. Kurt was on his back, his arm wrapped around her. Remi rested on her side, using him as a long pillow, her arm and one leg draped over him.

"Sorry about earlier," she said, feeling more comfortable than she should cuddled up next to a virtual stranger.

"For what?" he sleepily asked.

"For coming out to the living room…you know…getting you all worked up and then leaving you hanging." He made a sound meant to convey that he had no idea what she was talking about, but she opened her palm on his chest and rested her chin on the back of her hand and said, "I felt your… _enthusiasm_."

He chuckled, tightening his arm around her, musing, "Do you always follow an apology with an attempt to embarrass a guy?"

"You had no reason to be embarrassed. I was the one who crossed the line," she said, sort of gently.

Appearing uncertain how to answer, he looked away, gazing toward the sky.

If this was going to be their only night together, she didn't want him to look back and remember frustration, although she wasn't sure why it even mattered to her. She typically paid no mind to what people thought of her or her actions.

Even the mention of what had transpired between them made him shift uncomfortably. Obviously trying to sound at ease, he said, "Two of the brightest stars in the night sky are in the Orion constellation."

"What?" she asked, baffled.

"You know. Stars. Constellations."

"Yea. I know what they are," she giggled. "Didn't take you for much of a science nerd."

"I'm not. Not really. But I like stars."

She shook her head and rested it back down on him, saying, "Tell me more."

"More what?"

"Other stuff you know about stars."

"Uh," he began, pondering for a moment, looking down when she allowed a few of her fingers to move under his shirt and trace the center line of his torso down below his belly button. "That's the only space fact I can think of right now."

She hummed her amusement, her fingers continuing until he decisively covered her hand with his to stop her from moving.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I thought we were 'just sleeping' out here," he cautioned, his voice sounding far more serious than hers.

"We were. But I changed my mind. Is that okay?" she questioned, her hand slipping out from under his and popping open the button on his pants. Her fingers pinched the pull on the top of his zipper but paused, awaiting his response.

"Nya," he half answered.

"Is that no or a yes," she teased.

"It started out as a no. And then I thought… _who I am I kidding_?"

She looked at him with a fondness that she knew he didn't miss. "So that's a yes?"

"Depends," he said, suggestively. "Do I get to touch, too?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yea," he immediately answered. "You're way too beautiful not to touch." She turned away, feeling overwhelmed. "If you're not ready tonight…" he offered, "I'll wait until you are."

"I'm not a virgin," she countered, a bit harshly.

"It doesn't matter to me if you are or if you aren't. The offer would be the same either way," he stated, his hand rubbing her back, making her feel oddly supported and cared for. "I don't want you to do anything unless you're sure. But fair is fair. If you get to touch me, I get to touch you. And if you're not sure, we'll wait."

She wasn't certain what to tell him. Was she even going to see him again? Why was he so patient? Her desire to be untouchable was fading fast. If he would only be a little bit rude or impatient about her hesitation, it would be simple to write him off and push him away. He wasn't the type she liked at all, or maybe he was just different than all of the other men she'd known.

"I call the shots," she said, pulling herself onto his thighs, fighting the uncertain surface of the hammock until she was on top of him. "We can mess around. But that's it."

"Okay," he answered calmly, without a hint of disappointment.

"Okay?" she asked, still anticipating some pushback or argument.

He was already nodding, but paused, "I can touch you?"

She nodded, both annoyed and turned on by his insistence. He moved his hands to her hips, his thumbs each rubbing her skin just above the line of her pants, watching her to see if she was really going to allow him access. "Should we take this inside?" he asked.

Shaking her head, she reached behind her back and pulled the blanket up over them. "No one can see us out here," she said, fully appreciating the darkness and the little grove of trees that gave them cover.

Before she even knew what was happening, they were kissing again, like it was something they'd been doing for longer than a few hours. His hands almost immediately went up the back of her shirt, rubbing in one long, soothing stroke the whole way down to her pants again. She felt her breath hitch excitedly as she noted his response to her, his hand surrounding her rib, one thumb venturing onto the side of her breast. She began to think about throwing caution to the wind, ripping off their clothes and taking him inside her, considering how wonderful it might feel to be so intimately connected with someone who seemed so easy to trust.

As much as she craved the sensation, it made her remember that she was blatantly ignoring her own rules, opening herself up for pain and failure. Almost against her will, she loudly asserted, "Stop," pushing her hands onto his chest and sitting up.

His hands fell to his stomach as he gazed up at her, breathless, horny and confused. And then he appeared to be so apologetic that it made her heart ache. "Did I hurt you or did you—did you just change your mind?"

Still he stayed there, baffled and frustrated, but not angry or resentful. Kurt was a lot of things, but most of all, he was nothing like the people of her past. If she were to judge him based on his actions, he was exactly who he purported to be. "I was checking," she said, trying to organize the truths she'd gathered.

He sat up a little, the hammock swinging as he tried to get his balance. His arm went around her back, over her shirt, and he put his forehead against hers and asked, gently, "Checking what?"

She didn't answer, her head a massive storm cloud of swirling thoughts and feelings.

"What happened to you, Remi?" he asked. She didn't answer, she couldn't, and he continued, "You can tell me."

For the first time in years, she felt like crying, like actually allowing everything inside to spill out, but, narrowly holding it together, she said, "I don't even know you."

"Knowing someone isn't black or white. It's a process. It takes time. I know you well enough to know that I want to know you more. For now, that's all I need."

She felt a tear threatening to fall, and saw his expression and knew he was about to put an end to this tryst, so she grabbed his hands and brought them to the button on her pants, helping him pop it open and bringing his fingers to her zipper. He choked out, "Are you—"

"I'm sure," she interrupted, bringing his hands to her back and guiding them down into her pants.

She felt his hands surrounding her ass, tentatively pausing while he tried to decide what to do. "It's okay," she reassured, "I'm not going to change my mind. Let's make each other feel good. That's the only thing I want right now."

"I want that, too," he whispered, bringing his lips to her neck, kissing there like he was worshipping her form, one hand jammed down the back of her pants and one sliding up to her breast once more.

This time when he gently rolled her nipple between his thumb and finger, she just moaned, pressing her hips down onto his erection, feeling him nudge at her through their clothes. Maybe she'd come right there, like that, before his fingers even reached between her legs.

She shifted to the side, finally lowering his zipper and shoving her hand into his pants. Wasting no time with teases or coquettishness, she wrapped her fingers around him and stroked as he groaned with appreciation. Patience like his deserved to be rewarded. She really wanted to make him forget frustration, to bring some moments of enjoyment and gratification to this man who she was already surprisingly fond of.

He tugged at her pants, yanking each side alternatingly to move them down so he could have greater access to her body. He smiled unreservedly when she lifted up and helped him take them off. He reached into her panties, one hand on her back while the other very delicately slid lower until it found her center. He dragged one finger along her crevice, exploring her contours. Through the humming in her ears, she vaguely heard him murmur the words "soft," and "so, so wet," not that she needed him to tell her that. She could feel the way his fingers slipped around her, teasing her clit, but not staying there too long. He probably knew she'd come in a second if he focused his touch.

He dipped a finger lower to her entrance, and she would have been embarrassed to have been so brazenly responsive and hot for him had she not been so lost in the sensuality they were sharing. He stopped his hand's progression and made her feel a momentary panic, like maybe he was going to pull away this time, but he asked, "Is this okay?"

She grabbed his wrist and pushed his hand against her, rocking her hips toward him in encouragement as she hissed a 'yes' of affirmation. She didn't let go of his hand, feeling the pressure of his palm against her while his fingers worked inside her. She continued to pump his sex as she tried to close her eyes and imagine the feeling of their bodies joined.

Possibly emboldened by her reactions, he whispered, "Can I lick you? I want to…if that's okay." He was clearly struggling for words in a way that made him seem out of sorts and kind of adorable. "I'll stop whenever you want me to."

She finally let go of his wrist, trusting him to continue, using both hands to touch him in time with his thrusts into her. "Maybe next time," she whispered against his mouth, gently tugging his lower lip with her teeth.

Instead of being disappointed, he smiled and asked, "Next time?"

"Yea," she replied, gyrating over him so suggestively that it almost felt like they were fucking. "If that's okay with you?"

"Hell yea," he rasped as he rested his face in the crux of her neck.

She wished they'd found a more stable surface to lie upon, but she wasn't about to stop just to move to another location, not when he was making her feel so good. He pushed up her shirt, his lips finding her nipple, his tongue swirling and lapping in a way that made her realize how damn good he would have felt if she would have taken him up on his offer, wrapped her legs around his shoulders, and put his talents to further use.

"Close your eyes," she whispered, knowing that he would comply without even checking. She tightened and sped up her fists, finding that he now matched her pace. "Just imagine that you're inside me. That…" she started, trying to do her best to work him up and push him over the edge, but it backfired. She arched her back, shoving her hips furtively against his hand as she started to uninhibitedly voice her satisfaction.

He whispered, "Shh," against her lips, but only for a second before he, too, needed to be hushed.

* * *

Shortly before dawn, Kurt waited in the living room for Remi to finish her shower and join him. When she did, she jumped over the back of the sofa and pushed him down flat, her palms pinning his shoulders. "Isn't this what got us into trouble in the first place?" he joked. She didn't answer, and he asked, trying not to sound too serious, "Did you mean what you said?"

"Which thing?"

"About seeing me again?"

"Oh that."

"Be honest with me," he said, sensing that maybe it was something she'd said in the heat of the moment but hadn't really considered fully.

"I meant it," she confirmed. "But it'll be a few weeks until I can. I need to take care of a few things first. I'll give you a call when I get some free time. Okay?"

"Sure," he answered, wondering what in the hell she was going to take care of and if he'd ever hear from her again. Catching the time, he changed the subject. "Better wake up Sarah. We have to leave soon. We have to be at the train station by eight."

"Okay," she answered, getting up. "Don't…umm…can you not mention this to anyone?"

He nodded. "I won't tell anyone," he replied, but she looked nervous anyway. "Hey," he added, taking her hand and holding it affectionately, "I told you, you can trust me."

She glanced back at the bedroom door to make sure they weren't being watched, leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. "I hope so," she softly replied.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks so much for all of your continued encouragement. I'll try to keep the chapters coming somewhat regularly in the hopes of finishing this before the hiatus is over.**

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

Remi wasn't exactly sure how long she'd been back at the farm, but judging by her degree of thirst, it was probably nearing twenty-four hours. When she'd arrived home, she'd been greeted by eight of Shepherd's 'family' members down in the supply barn. They'd all attacked at once. She'd held her own for several minutes, until Shepherd elected to use a taser, and Remi tumbled limply to the ground.

Shepherd had locked Remi in the cells below the barn, and told her she'd be staying there for a few days until she regained her 'focus'. Of course, things like this weren't very effective against Remi. She'd been trained to withstand many forms of torture, and being kept in a dark room without food or water was something she could handle. Although she knew Shepherd had kept Roman away as part of the punishment, and not being able to check on Roman was a weapon every bit as painful and effective as a taser.

She closed her eyes, sitting on her knees on the floor, and allowed her mind to creep inward. This wouldn't break her. This temporary penance would be paid and forgotten soon enough.

When the cellar door opened above, Remi remained still, not wanting to greet the visitor too excitedly. After all, she didn't want to give Shepherd the satisfaction. Remi could be just as stubborn as Shepherd, and wasn't going to allow anyone to think they'd successfully caused her distress.

"You shouldn't have humiliated Shepherd in front of _the soldier_ ," a familiar voice stated.

Remi opened her eyes and saw Oscar leaning against her clear, plastic-walled cage. She didn't answer. Oscar tried to be friendly, but he'd been one of Shepherd's favorites, so Remi was suspicious. Shepherd hadn't hidden the fact that she thought that, if Remi absolutely _had_ to date, Oscar was the only choice.

He held up a large bottle of water and slid it through the pass-through. She remained kneeling on the floor, still obstinately glued to the ground.

"Take it," he said.

"I don't need it," she replied, staring forward, her outward appearance showing a person at peace.

"Was it worth it?" he asked. "Was being stuck in this cage worth one day of freedom with someone you don't even know?"

"Shepherd is overreacting to a weekend road trip."

"The road trip wasn't the problem, and you know it. Shepherd has never appreciated dissent, and you questioned her authority in front of a stranger. Even worse, he's part of the establishment, so he's part of the problem."

Remi didn't answer any more, closing her eyes and remaining still. She wished Oscar hadn't brought up Kurt. She'd been doing her best during her incarceration not to think about him. As soon as she was reminded, she flashed back to their time together. She saw them, swinging on the hammock with the cool breeze brushing her face, laughing with him on the sofa, the way he looked while he preached at her about proper marshmallow handling. She remembered how good he'd felt, and the fact that she'd been more free and open with him than she had with anyone she could remember.

"Are you smiling?" Oscar griped. "This isn't funny, Remi."

"I know," she answered, looking up at him.

"Don't ever forget who you're dealing with. You remember what happened to Sasha? Moore? Travis? The list goes on and on. Shepherd is no joke, so you need to start taking her seriously." He began getting angry and knelt in front of the cell and pleaded, "I don't want anything to happen to you. I care about you."

"I'll be fine," she answered firmly.

"Please. Drink the water. She told me I could give it to you. It's okay…you can have it."

She opened her eyes, glared and smiled sadly, "You got her _permission_ to sneak water in for me?"

"Yea," he laughed. "You think I want to end up in there?"

She took a deep, centering breath. She should have known he wouldn't disobey Shepherd to help her. He tried to argue with Remi, she could hear him like a distant buzz, but she didn't pay attention to the words. Finally he grew frustrated and left, the water bottle still in the pass-through, untouched.

* * *

As anticipated, it was Shepherd who finally came to release Remi after two days locked up. "I didn't want to do this, Remi," she said. "You pushed me. You brought this on yourself."

Shepherd added food to the pass-through, next to the water Oscar had left a day earlier that Remi had stubbornly refused. Remi didn't scramble for the food. She remained silent, patiently awaiting release from the cage.

Shepherd ordered, "Get up and move out. Eat your meal, drink your water. You have fifteen to clean up and get ready for your run. Can you handle it, or do I send Roman?"

Remi glowered, always suspecting that Shepherd would threaten to use Roman if Remi refused an assignment. Until then, it hadn't been necessary. "I'll be ready," Remi replied. She always tried to keep Roman out of these situations. Especially with the particular gang she was meeting. Their tactics were cruel and vicious even in comparison to the other gangs Remi typically dealt with.

Shepherd walked in the cell, and extended an arm to Remi to help her up. Remi didn't want to take it, but feared that Roman might be used if she failed to comply, so she took the offered hand.

When Remi stood, Shepherd kept hold of her arm, digging her powerful hand into Remi's wrist. "Have I effectively communicated with you? Have I made myself perfectly clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," Remi answered unemotionally.

"Don't make an ass out of me again," Shepherd said as she let go, grabbed the water bottle, and threw it toward her daughter.

Remi caught it and argued, "When have I ever disobeyed a direct order?"

Shepherd turned slowly and said, "Excuse me?"

"Permission to speak freely?" Remi asked. Pointing around the space, she added, "It's just you and me here."

Shepherd folded her arms and replied, "Fine. What do you have to say, Remi?"

"I have done anything you have asked of me. I have done everything for the cause, the tattoos, the drops, solo missions. I didn't complain about it when everything went wrong at the last drop and I got my ass kicked…we both know that wasn't my fault when it all fell apart. I don't second guess your orders or ask any unnecessary questions."

"I am making you strong."

"I already was strong. My point is, I have worked hard for you, done everything you've asked. And I've earned—"

"You've earned my respect…until this recent incident, that is."

"I've _earned_ a little freedom once in a while! All that I'm asking is to have a few days off, away from the farm, on occasion."

"This is the reason why we stay away from outsiders. We can lose focus. Become distracted from our mission. We're important, Remi. We're not like other people. We have a purpose…a calling."

"Is it because I'm a woman?" Remi confrontationally charged.

"How dare you even ask me that?"

"You don't keep Oscar prisoner here. He gets to live on his own, see the world."

"It has nothing to do with gender. Oscar isn't my _daughter_ ," Shepherd said, using the affectionate tone that always felt sickening and false.

"I won't miss a mission. I'll still do my job. I just want a weekend away once in a while. Is that really so much to ask? I want to see a little bit of the world before it's too late. We both know that, in this line of work, none of us will live to grow old. I never know which mission might be my last."

"You're far better than anyone else that I have. I send you in because I know you can survive."

"And you've trusted me and my judgment for years now in the field. Why not trust it out in the world? I'm just asking you to give me a little freedom. I've earned that."

"If something happened to you—"

Remi smiled and shook her head, "I went away and spent an afternoon boating with some ordinary people, not getting high or robbing banks. It was a lot safer than supply drops where I'm outnumbered, outgunned and without backup."

"This request for freedom…has nothing to do with Kurt Weller, right?"

"Please," Remi scoffed. "He has no idea about the real world. He's got his head in the sand. Why would I have any interest in someone like that?"

* * *

Kurt attempted to remain ambivalent about whether or not he heard from Remi, but deep down he knew she was the reason he checked his messages more often. Nearly a month went by without a word, and he told himself that he had to accept that she'd be nothing more than a memory. It hurt far more than he wanted to admit. She was a weekend fling, and should have been easy to forget. At least that was what he kept telling himself.

During lunch that Friday, he went to see the gas station employee who'd given him her number. He wasn't going to wallow or waste another second of his life on self-pity. He'd barely known Remi, and he hadn't even been important enough to her to warrant a goodbye phone call.

He actually had to talk himself into going out again, looking through his wallet to remind himself of her name. Katie. She was cute, and under normal circumstances, he'd be excited to take her out. He stood in line with a sports drink, waiting his turn, noting the way she smiled at him around her current customer.

When he got to the front of the line, she said, "Took you long enough."

"Yea," he replied, flashing his best smile, "sorry about that."

"You're here now."

"I am," he said, tapping the counter a few times as he got ready to ask her out. The words didn't follow as planned. "It's just…I haven't been feeling the best."

"For a month?"

"Yea," he answered, knowing she didn't believe him as he dropped the money into her outstretched hand. "I still feel kinda rough. I wanted to apologize for not calling. Maybe I could stop by again when I'm feeling better…in a few weeks."

"Right," she said.

"Okay," he replied as he pushed open the door. "I'll see you around."

He walked out into the parking lot, cursing himself as he went. This was getting ridiculous. He was waiting for someone who clearly wasn't interested. Taking Katie out would have been fun, and now he was going to sit around, wasting another weekend alone.

That afternoon, he hit the track, determined to run until his mind lacked the oxygen to think any longer. A few other guys were still on the track, most of them talking about their plans for the weekend while he kept his mouth shut and focused on covering as much ground as he could in as little time as possible. At least heartache was good for his conditioning.

He broke into an all-out sprint and tore across the track, feeling the muscles in his legs screaming for a break. When he crossed the line, he slowed to a light jog, and the sight of a subtle wave caught his eye.

He tilted his head, wondering if he was actually seeing what he thought he saw or if oxygen deprivation had begun to kick in and he was hallucinating. He recognized the unruly black hair and the understated smile. He certainly thought the body that filled out her typical tank top and black jeans seemed familiar. He ambled closer, trying not to run over because he didn't want to appear too desperate.

"Hey," Remi said as he approached the fence.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, grinning in spite of himself.

"I was in the area, so I thought I'd stop by."

"You were in the area? Hours away from home?"

"Weller, have you ever seen one of those before? Females I mean," one of the guys, Fisher, teased from behind him.

"He knows plenty of females," another guy, Wade, said. Then he teased, "He spends tons of time with his sister, doing her hair and playing dolls and stuff."

Kurt chuckled, but ignored them, his eyes honed on Remi.

"Has anyone had 'the talk' with him?" Fisher asked. Shouting at Remi, he said, "Sweetie, if you're looking for a man who knows what to do with a girl like you, I'm available."

"Weller has that _brittle bone_ issue…you know what I mean, right?" Wade joked as they laughed obnoxiously.

Remi looked pretty irritated, and said, "You going to let them talk like that?"

"They're just ribbing me. Besides, I don't know how long you're staying. Why would I waste a minute on them?" Kurt replied.

"I have some free time this weekend, if you're available."

"I'm available," he replied, without even thinking about toying with her.

She couldn't seem to stop glancing at the guys taunting him in the background. She leapt over the fence to his side and stood in front of him. "You really don't kiss and tell, do you?" she asked.

"Nope," he answered.

"It would be really easy to shut them up if you did. You met a girl, a day later you were in her pants. Today she drove all the way down here, hoping that you were free for a few hours. And that's what you could say, even if you didn't embellish the story at all."

Fisher started heckling more loudly, clearly trying to get Kurt to react. Kurt was still completely unconcerned with the taunts, but Remi was beginning to get very angry. She whispered, "Kiss me," grabbed his shirt and roughly yanked him closer.

Of course he did so, knowing an order when he'd heard one. She wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him close, almost combatively making contact. It felt like she was more interested in making a point than in kissing him, but the moment his hands found their way to her back and his arms enveloped her, he felt her relax into him.

When she pulled back, Remi kept him in her embrace and said, "Guess I could have told them that I know firsthand that the _brittle_ _bone_ thing won't be a problem."

Kurt chuckled, "They were just trying to get a reaction. That's how those guys are. But I don't think that was the reaction they were expecting." He nodded over to where they'd stood, but were now all gone. "I didn't tell anyone, but I'm pretty sure people are going to figure it out if you do stuff like that in public."

"Are you mad?"

He shook his head. "You were the one who asked for discretion."

"Why don't you finish your workout, and then, maybe, show me your room?"

"Workout is done. You can see my room if you want, but I have two roommates, so…maybe we could grab a motel for the night? There's a place down the street."

"You want to take me to that cheap motel?" she smirked.

"Well…" he felt a little flustered, "I wasn't implying anything. I thought it would be nice to have a place where we could be alone. I'm pretty sure that you're going to attract attention if you walk around campus. We can get two beds, if you want."

Remi nodded slowly, her eyes falling on his face quite affectionately almost immediately. "We should definitely get a room."

"Great. The Blue Note Motel is just down—"

"I saw it," she replied. "Do you go there often?"

"No," he responded a bit defensively. "But I have visited on occasion."

"With other women?"

He could see her expression, knowing damn well that she was testing him, again. She probably cared more about whether or not he answered truthfully than about the actual answer. "Yea," he replied.

Her look was pleased rather than disappointed, and she shook her head as she complimented, "So honest. But I was thinking of a different place."

"I didn't take you for the jealous type," he grinned.

"I'm not," she retorted. "But I could use a long shower in a place that actually has hot running water. I have a spot in mind."

"Fine by me. I need to go back and grab a few things from my room before we leave. You want to come?"

* * *

Remi was fascinated by this life he lived. The campus was formal, spotless, with grand old brick halls and tall trees. She'd often imagined going to school, but hadn't pictured anything quite this sophisticated. He opened the door to his room and looked around inside. "No one's here right now," he explained. "You can come in, or you can wait in the hall if you want."

"I'll come in," she answered, following him into the surprisingly orderly room. The bunks were raised, and beneath each there was a small closet, a desk and a set of drawers. It seemed quite austere compared to the grandeur of the outside.

He hurriedly threw a few things into a bag as she looked above at his bed.

"I can see why you wouldn't want to stay here…not a lot of space to move around up there," she goaded.

He paused what he was doing and shook his head. His hand rested on his bunk as he faced her, trying to appear sincere. "Nothing physical has to happen between us this weekend," he restated. "We could watch TV, order pizza, you can take your shower, maybe get to know each other better…I seem to remember that you were going to try to convince me that you're horrible."

That damn smile seemed to shoot right through her. "What if something does happen?" she replied, stepping up and wrapping an arm around his neck. "I kept thinking about you…about the last time we were together."

"Me too," he nodded.

"I've been thinking about finally getting you alone…and not just to watch TV. Would that be okay, too?"

He nodded for a little too long, his eyes searching her face before he curled an arm around her and pulled her closer. "More than okay. I just…I want you to know that I don't expect anything."

She shook her head as her smile faded. He was so damn confusing. There was one question that she had been pondering ever since the time they'd spent together. "Why are you so…cautious?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're always so careful about making sure I don't feel pressured. Up at Raystown, I was back and forth so many times that I practically gave you whiplash…and you didn't complain at all. I probably would have complained, if I were you. I just don't understand. The only thing I can think of is…maybe you aren't that interested, or you get enough offers that it wasn't worth the effort."

"That's not it at all," he shook his head. "In fact, you're pretty much the only woman I can seem to think about lately."

"So why?"

His chin dropped to his chest, and, for a moment, she felt the tremendous weight on his conscience.

"You don't have to tell me," she said, nudging him with her shoulder. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have even—"

"My father…he did some terrible things," Kurt interrupted, finding and keeping her gaze. It seemed that once he committed to something, he didn't do it halfheartedly. "He hurt a girl, someone important to me. And even the way he treats women…that's not who I am. I would _never_ be like that. I don't want to be with anyone who doesn't want to be with me. It probably seems stupid to you, but…I will never be anything like him."

"It's not stupid at all," she immediately answered. Her head felt uncertain for a moment at the pointed honesty he offered. "I can already tell you aren't like that," she replied just as committedly, finding her hand rubbing his shoulder comfortingly like he seemed to do for her. It was strange, she hadn't been raised that way, but now that she'd learned it, it felt natural to offer that kind of reassurance.

"And…" he said, speaking more hesitantly, "I think…you haven't always been treated right, you've been hurt. So it's even more important for you to know that—"

"Me?" she interrupted, feeling the need to cut and run from this situation through any means possible. "I don't know what—"

He interjected, "You've been testing me to see if I'm being honest, but you hide the truth. You double-checked that I would stop if you told me to, and you made sure I knew you called the shots back at Raystown. You always kept yourself in a position where you could get away easily. I don't mind, but I definitely noticed."

"I don't want to talk about this."

He touched her face so gently, whispering, "You don't have to talk about it. I don't know who hurt you…but I hate him."

"Hey man," a voice said as the door opened.

"Miller, this is Remi," Kurt said, stepping away from her and throwing the last few objects in his bag. "Remi, this is Miller, he bunks here."

She nodded at him, noticing that he stared at her somewhat suspiciously.

"You a friend of Sarah's?" Miller asked.

"No," Remi shook her head.

Kurt bumped her arm with his and said, "Are you ready?" After she nodded, he looked at his roommate and said, "I'll be out a few days."

"What should I tell Sarah when she calls?" Miller asked.

"I'll get in touch with her," Kurt said, hurriedly shutting the door.

They fled down the hall to the back steps, and Remi asked, "Does everyone know your sister?"

"She's my whole family," he replied. "At least the only one who matters."

* * *

Remi offered to drive, and took the pair to a hotel that was quite bit nicer than the one he'd mentioned. It certainly wasn't the place he'd expected her to choose. She walked up to the counter and checked in, and he was pretty sure she gave the name _Anna Fields._

As they stepped on the elevator, Kurt glanced around at the reflective surfaces surrounding them. He was surprised they'd even let him in such a nice hotel. He was dirty and sweaty, wearing a stained tee shirt, army boots, and fatigues. Ridiculously soft instrumental music played in the background, and he pointed at the speaker and said, "I think I have this CD."

She half smirked and shook her head, answering, "Makes you want to hit the brake and just hang out here all night."

"Absolutely," he joked.

They stepped off the elevator and followed the sign on the wall that pointed them to room 1027.

As she used the key card on the door, he asked, "So is 'Remi' just a nickname?"

"Not really," she replied. She swung open the door and gestured for him to enter. Predicting the next question, she said, "I gave a fake name. I don't want Shepherd to know where I am. I also picked this place because she'd never think to look somewhere this nice. Any more questions?"

"Nope. I'm certainly not going to complain about time alone with you."

"Good," she said, untying her shoes and leaving them by the door. "I've been on the road for days, so I want to grab a shower. Then we'll figure out the rest."

"Need someone to wash your back?" he suggestively asked.

She actually appeared to be considering it for a moment before she said, "I think I can handle that on my own."

He swept her up in his arms, careful to lean his own back against the wall instead of pinning her. "I didn't think you were going to call," he said, a little surprised that she allowed him to hold her so tightly without her feet touching the ground.

"I told you I needed a few weeks," she said.

"At first I believed you. Then I thought you were just blowing me off."

"I wanted to come sooner," she said, and he felt his entire body tense.

"Really?"

"Yea. I wanted to come see you the weekend after we met."

"Right," he grumbled, turning away with disbelief.

"I'm serious," she affirmed, grabbing his face so he had to look at her. "I really wanted to see you again."

"I wanted to see you, too," he answered, finding that she was far better at captivating his mind than he was comfortable with. He could barely believe the words that were emerging from him. If anything, Kurt Weller knew how to stay cool under pressure. He wasn't going to say too much. He was going to keep her wondering, just like she did him. "I missed you," he said, and then wanted to kick his own ass for saying something that made him so vulnerable and exposed.

"Are you serious?" she asked with a slight chuckle.

He looked away from her eyes again, feeling like he'd made a mistake and treaded too far into dangerous waters.

"I did, too," she replied before he could feel too badly about his confession.

He stared back into her eyes immediately. He was really going to have to work on his poker face, because she was unraveling his carefully built defenses.

They waited in thorough silence, each gazing into the other with equal intensity, but the only thoughts he could fully entertain were thoughts of being closer to her. He needed to be with her, next to her, inside her. And then she wiggled from his grasp, stepped back and said, "I'm filthy."

"You're perfect," he answered, half of him wanting to kick himself for saying too much yet again, and the other half wishing he'd said more.

"I'm gonna clean up," she said. First offering a quick conciliatory kiss, she added, "I'll be back. I promise."

He sat in the chair near the bed as he heard the water turn on, and dreamed of following her into that shower. He was comfortable with his desire for her. That was simple. But the part that terrified him was the part that didn't just want her, it was the part that already _knew_ he could love her.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Kurt wasn't typically interested in upscale things, but the shower made him reconsider. The blasting hot water beat against his back soothingly as he finally washed away the grime of the day. He'd elected to grab a shower the second Remi had stepped out of hers, mostly because he was trying not to gawk at her when she returned wearing only a towel. He didn't feel very adept at this careful tiptoeing. He wasn't sure what really made Remi so different, but he wanted her to be more than a fling. Ordinarily he'd consider an invitation to a hotel as a pretty clear green light unless he heard differently, but he was determined not to mess things up.

So he stood in the bathroom after his shower, dripping water and scratching his head as he realized he'd gone in so hurriedly that he hadn't brought clean clothes. He certainly wasn't going to dig through the disgusting pile of dirty clothes he'd shed onto the floor to put something back on. He didn't think she'd find that very alluring. He grabbed his towel and flung it around his hips for cover until he could get something to wear from his bag. In truth, he hoped he wouldn't need it, but it was best to err on the side of caution.

Walking out into the room, he immediately saw Remi, a tiny form curled up peacefully in the center of the bed. The blankets and pillows were fluffy and white, and she was completely covered except for her head. Her damp black hair was the only thing that disrupted the snowy pile of linens.

Resting there, she looked unexpectedly passive and serene. Fighting the urge to dive directly into bed with her as she slept, he turned away to get his things. While unzipping his bag as quietly as he could so as to not disturb her, he heard her say, "You are so damn pretty."

He glanced behind him at the bed and saw her lying on her side with her arm propping up her head. Now that her shoulder was out from under the covers, it seemed likely that she wasn't wearing a top.

"That is definitely the first time anyone's ever said that about me," he chuckled.

"No way," she admired. "It might be the first time you've ever _heard_ someone say it, but I promise it's not the first time it has been said."

He stopped digging through his things and faced her, watching the way she studied his body with her eyes and seemed to admire what she was seeing. It was a bit strange, being so unabashedly researched in this way. "Thank you," he finally said.

"You don't need those," she stated decisively, nodding toward his hand where he tightly gripped a pair of his boxers.

"I don't?"

"Why bother? I'll just have to take them off anyway."

He appreciated her directness, because trying to read between the lines left a lot of room for error.

She peeled back the covers to invite him in. The shadows they cast weren't enough for him to really get a good look at her, but he was relatively certain that she didn't have a stitch of clothing on beneath those sheets.

"Are you coming?" she asked, appearing amused by the stunned look on his face.

Towel still around his waist, he half-jogged across the room when he realized he'd just been standing there like an idiot. She put a hand against his stomach to make him pause before he got in, and she flicked the tucked part of the towel free, causing it to quickly tumble to the ground. He slipped beneath the blankets in the space she'd made for him, and for a second, he just sunk down into the pillowy mattress and felt himself being swallowed by comfort. He didn't say anything, but she laughed subtly at his relaxation and said, "This bed is the softest thing I've ever felt."

Rolling on his side to face her, he replied, "You're wrong," reaching his hand out to her and very lightly brushing her hip. "This…is the softest thing I've ever felt." She cast a doubtful glare before he added, "But this is definitely a lot more comfortable than my bunk."

"I had no idea they even made beds like this," she said, her eyes widening, and for a moment she looked as youthful as her age. Typically she was so serious that she appeared older than her years, but for a few moments she was excited without trying to stifle the feeling.

He almost told her that he didn't know they made women like her either, but thought better of it. It was too soon to say things like that. Somewhat unexpectedly, she pushed him onto his back, her hands shoving his shoulders to the bed while she hopped on top of him. She looked like she, too, had something more to say, but didn't. He'd sort of expected to have to convince or entice her, or make some greater effort than just showing up and climbing into bed. The hesitations of their previous night together seemed to be a thing of the past. Her lips moved to his, devouring his mouth with a hunger that made her intentions crystal clear. As if there was some chance he didn't understand, he felt her hand move over his thigh.

Although there were many things he didn't know about her, he knew how difficult it was for her to let someone close, so with his final bit of resistance, he took her hand and held it against his stomach and said, "If I do anything you don't like or you feel uncomfortable—"

"Trust me," she stared down at him, "I'll tell you if you do."

"Okay," he answered, wondering if he should ask in advance about any rules she might have, but that felt oddly unromantic.

"For example, I don't like the fact that you stopped me from what I was about to do," she teased suggestively, twisting her hand out from under his.

"I'll try not to let it happen again," he replied amusedly, his palms moving to her shoulders before his fingers traced feathery paths down over her arms.

As he touched her bare skin, he couldn't entirely shake the feeling that her history had been full of pain, and he felt compelled not to add to that in any way. She deserved to experience better things. She clearly didn't need or want him to take care of her, which, oddly enough, made him want to protect her all the more. For whatever reason, she mattered to him.

His hands gravitated to her hips, his thumbs brushing her lower belly before he easily hoisted her over his stomach so her knees were on either side of his head. She yelped for a moment with surprise, but when he checked her face, he found a subtle anticipatory smirk, without even a hint of reluctance.

He moved his hands under her thighs so he could control her movement, remaining on his back so she could easily pull away if she wanted. He thought she trusted him, but sex was supposed to be fun, and he didn't want her enjoyment to be tainted with thoughts of self-protection. He wanted her to let go, to trust that she didn't have to be vigilant when she was with him.

Guiding her hips, he brought her sex to his mouth, staring up at her face while he moved her body. Her eyes were eagerly honed on him. She looked so filled with lusty tension that he could sense the gravity of her pent up desire. He slid his tongue along her crevice, caressing her delicate flesh, exploring her body as he found her contours. She was beyond wet, more like soaked with arousal, and sampling her desire shot through him, making him hard as hell just from tasting her. He reminded himself he wasn't going to rush, no matter what his dick wanted.

He continued to move her body, controlling the pace of her undulations. He loved having her over him, hovering over his face, the flavor of her in his mouth, the skin of her inner thighs against his face, and the sounds of her encouragement in his ears. Each time he touched her clit, it pulsed between his lips or against his tongue, and she would gasp or moan, sometimes pleading for more.

When she leaned forward slightly, resting her clenched fingers on the headboard behind him, he knew she was teetering between the wish that the feeling would continue and the need to let the mounting sensations rise and wash over her. He let go of her hip, finding his hand was needed elsewhere. Continuing to pleasure her with his mouth, he moved a hand between her thighs and slipped a finger inside her. That warm wetness, the feeling of her fluids coating his finger, made the need to bury himself inside her almost impossible to deny. With little delay, he pushed a second finger inside, hearing her cry out as her excitement surged.

He slid into her as deeply as he could, and with each thrust brought her back to his lips, encouraging the sway of her hips to his desired tempo. Her entire form became almost impossibly taut before she came, her body remaining stoic and unmoving as she peaked with a gratified scream, holding onto him like he was her only tether to earth. As still as she was outwardly, her inner muscles clamped and pulsed around his fingers, holding them in her while he only let his tongue wriggle softly against her until the last pieces of tension shattered.

She made a tiny sound to wordlessly tell him to stop moving before she lifted away from his fingers and slid down his body, collapsing onto him like he was made and shaped for her to rest upon.

Getting her off was intensely gratifying and insanely hot, and he was already hoping to have earned the chance to do it again, and again, however her stillness wasn't as distracting, and he realized exactly how long he'd been waiting his turn. He remained in place, trying to call upon his last reserves of patience as the need for something to relieve the tight ache that had built in him was screaming for her attention. She moved a little lower, and he felt her sex against his, so tempting and warm and so…near. His hands drifted to her ass and his hips lifted in search of counter pressure.

He didn't try to push inside her, but he couldn't avoid pressing against her, letting his shaft slide along her swollen cleft, still slippery with her own arousal and release. She hummed her complicity, so he shifted again, both hands palming the globes of her ass to keep her against him. The tip of his cock nudged her clit as they moved, and her upper body bolted upright. For just a moment he thought she was pulling away because she disapproved, but instead her palms planted against his ribs, and she started rocking over him, allowing him to bump against her pleasure point until her thighs quivered uncontrollably and her hands formed tight fists. He wasn't completely sure if she came again or if it was an aftershock from her previous orgasm, but whatever it was, it was beautiful. And it made him feel invincible and desperate at the same time.

She moaned, rapidly tapping his chest when she needed him to hold completely still, her forehead falling to his shoulder. When her body dropped against his again, he reached between them, covering himself, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to think of everything that had ever irritated the hell out of him so he wouldn't completely lose control and come before he was even inside her. That would be a disappointing turn.

She looked at him with something he initially took as regret, and she murmured, "Damn."

"Damn?" he asked.

"Sorry for making you wait," she said. "You look so…," then she giggled for a second, but didn't elaborate.

"You're laughing at me?" he asked, trying to maintain a sense of humor but feeling a sting.

"No," she shook her head ardently. "I just…I like the way you look at me when you want me."

She appeared timid for a second, a look that seemed entirely out of place on a woman like her. "Oh," he answered, adding, "so you like the way I always look at you?"

It was meant to be a light comment, but she didn't take it that way, biting her lower lip as she nodded and then reached over to the bedside table for a condom. He hadn't even realized she'd brought any, but he was relieved that he didn't have to get up and search for his wallet.

He noted the way her hands seemed as impatient as he felt while they tore open the wrapper, and he tried to ignore the sound of his own needful groan when she rolled the rubber over him. By that point, he was so grateful to be touched that he wasn't even sure if he cared how he came anymore, as long as he did soon.

She had been so reserved about initially letting him close, but now that she'd decided to let him near, she was unashamedly sensual and sexy.

She grabbed onto him without any hesitation. In spite of her own climax, she seemed just as full of desire as she had been earlier, and it was infectious. Because of her slickness from their previous activities, he plunged right into the confines of her body in spite of her tightness. She started moving almost too quickly once he was buried inside her. He nearly rolled her beneath him, but when he felt her start to tense in response, he remembered that she didn't like feeling trapped, so he dropped his back down to the mattress. Instead, he grabbed onto her hips and stilled her, pleading, "Hold up a second."

Her eyes were wide, maybe a bit concerned, and he looked up and began to say, "You are…," but words never came, his hips lifting up to her as he pulled her body down to meet him. He only managed the slower pace for a moment before biological need won and urged him forward. There was no longer a choice. Her breasts bobbing above him, the sounds of her moans and cries were too much to try to ignore any more.

When he saw her face, he realized she was staring right at him without the slightest veil of separation. Her lips were parted as she panted, her eyes connecting with his, and then her smoother rhythm began to skip and jerk as her back sharply arched and her face turned toward the ceiling. Everything around them vanished into a white-hot surge.

The tension wire was cut and he collapsed, feeling her lips next to his as they breathed into each other.

* * *

Cuddled up against his body, she sighed contentedly. It wasn't often that she felt completely relaxed and at ease. "Why don't you have a girlfriend?" she asked.

"Maybe I do," he yawned.

"I don't think so. You don't strike me as a cheater. Maybe a bit of a player…but not a cheater."

He smiled in her direction, appearing to carefully choose his words before he said, "Who said anything about cheating?"

He held her a little closer, his hand settling just below her back on the up-swell of her ass, and she felt her skin burn with a strange sense of shyness when she realized he was talking about her. She quickly continued on, unable to even think about that right now. "Are you the type who wants to settle down some day, or does the very thought bore you?"

He gazed up at the dimpled ceiling and said, "Depends on meeting the right girl. And how she feels about me, too." He took a deep breath and added, "I'm not sure how many women would like the uncertainty of a life like mine. Chances are, when I'm done with school, I'll end up being stationed somewhere else, maybe in another country. So if she wants a career or a family, it's a bit more complicated. Expecting someone to set aside their dreams to follow me around is a pretty big favor to ask."

"Is that what you want? To be stationed overseas?"

"I'd like to see the world," he confessed. "Most of my life has been in Clearfield or in military school. I haven't really been anywhere else. I've never seen the Pacific Ocean or left this hemisphere. I've barely left the east coast."

"I've been all over the world, but I haven't really _seen_ much of it," she confessed without even trying to suppress the truth.

"You have?" he asked, turning so his lips were against her forehead.

She knew this was exactly the type of discussion that Shepherd would fume about. Fucking wasn't just fucking when you cuddled, shared pillow talk, and didn't even want to think about leaving afterwards. Even if Remi tried to pretend her interest in Kurt was physical, she didn't truly believe it. But if it was to be anything more than that, it wasn't like she could hide everything about herself forever.

"I didn't always live on a farm in Pennsylvania. I was born in South Africa," she admitted, feeling like the admission came more easily than she'd expected. "Then Roman and I moved around…a lot. We traveled around Africa for a few months, but I don't know which countries. I was very young and no one told us where we were. We stayed in Russia and Hungary and other parts of Eastern Europe. Lived in China and on an island somewhere…maybe Indonesia, but I'm not sure. Even after Shepherd first took us in, we moved around here in the States, but not as much. We only settled at the farm a couple of years ago."

"That's so cool," he replied with awe.

"It's not," she countered, realizing that she hadn't spoken of those days in years, not even with Roman.

"Don't you miss it?"

"No. Not even a little. They weren't great days. Especially before Shepherd came along."

She worried that he was going to probe for more, but instead he just held her, silently absorbing her words.

"I think…" she started again, realizing that she was continuing without being prompted. "I would like to see some of the world like a normal person, a tourist."

She paused, hoping on one hand that he would suggest that they travel together while she knew that if he would suggest such a thing, it would alarm her. He still said nothing, and she had to wonder if it was because he was deep in thought or if his brain was just post-orgasmic and numb. His fingers curled around her wrist on his chest, and he lightly brushed her skin. She realized after a few moments that he was tracing her newest tattoo, one just above her wrist that looked like a mechanical flower. "Did you have this before?" he asked.

"No."

"How often do you get a new one?" he asked curiously. She felt immediately self-conscious, and he seemed to notice, so he added, "They're really beautiful. I love them. I've just never known someone who has this many. Draw one for me?"

She didn't want to talk about any of this, not when she was in such a comfortable, safe place with this man who made her feel like she had a purpose in the world beyond her duties for Shepherd. "Maybe," she replied, peeking under the covers to change the subject. "But right now…I don't want to talk about work when I have you here, alone in this room," she affectionately hummed.

"Work?" he asked, his voice and face demonstrating his confusion.

She yanked the covers off of him, moving her hand down his body until she reached his sex and her finger began to trace his shape. She grinned, pleased when she felt him begin to stir again from the touch of one finger, so she added another. She wasn't going to rush, instead electing to explore his body this time since she'd neglected to during their last round.

She felt him watching her, wondering if he knew she'd initially begun again because she'd been trying to distract him from their discussion. Whether he did or not, neither of them seemed to care about her previous motivations anymore. She was more than happy to let him think with something other than his brain for the time being.

The covers were still partially draped over her, so he rolled and flung them away. He wasn't looking at her tattoos, though. He ran the back of a finger over her nipple, drawing it tight, watching her body react to him just as she was watching his reaction to her.

She enjoyed his touch so much that she felt like she could stay there with him for days. "You ready again?" she asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Told you I was a more-than-one-round kinda guy," he snickered momentarily, but couldn't seem to brag for long when he was busy checking her out.

Something about being with him felt like an adventure, but she was really going to have to be more careful about keeping her mouth shut when they were alone. Ignoring him, she grabbed another condom. She pinched it between her thumb and finger, holding it out in front of him as she asked, playfully, "Think you can keep up?"

He snatched it from her hand, leaning closer so he could reach her breast, lovingly tugging a nipple between his lips. Tilting his head away for a second, he gently taunted, "Can you?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Kurt needed to call Sarah, so he used the phone in the room. He and Remi were both still lazing in bed, relaxing beside each other. Remi looked at the apricot shade over the window, the sun illuminating it from behind and making it clear that they'd only been there a couple of hours. There was still plenty of time left to enjoy the weekend.

She listened with fascinated amusement while Kurt talked to his sister. She could hear some of the words emanating from the earpiece, realizing that much of what Sarah was saying involved yelling at her brother. Remi was also relatively certain she heard her name, and from the way he was blushing, and sneaking side glances at her, she got the impression that Sarah was giving him a hard time for seeing anyone other than Remi. No matter how unhappily Sarah griped, he didn't cave and tell her that Remi was the person right next to him.

Remi snatched the phone from Kurt's shoulder and said, "Hey, Sarah." The phone was silent for a few breaths, and Remi guessed that Sarah was trying to place the voice. "It's Remi," she continued. "I stole your brother for the weekend."

"Oh," Sarah replied, sounding pleased and surprised. "Why didn't he tell me?"

"We're being discreet."

"Mmm," Sarah said suspiciously. "Discreet because you have a boyfriend or a husband somewhere?"

"Nothing like that," Remi reassured.

"Then my lips are sealed," Sarah promised. "And tell him not to waste any more time calling me this weekend. I'll talk to him Monday."

"I don't think—" Remi began, prepared to argue.

"Bye now," Sarah quickly interrupted before the line cut dead.

Remi looked at the phone and said to Kurt, "She's even intense over the phone."

"Yea," he chuckled. "You didn't have to tell her you were here."

She hung up the phone and replied, "I think your sister likes me more than you do." Although she was smiling, his stare was heavy with unspoken thoughts. "You said something about food?" she asked. "They have room service if you want to try it."

"We don't have time for that."

"Why?" she asked, suddenly wondering if she'd planned on a full weekend together and he only intended on staying with her for a few hours. They hadn't specifically discussed a length of time for their stay.

"Thirty-six count?" he questioned. He picked up the box of condoms she'd brought, pointed to the label and said with astonishment, "I had no idea expectations were _that_ high for one weekend. We don't have time for extra stuff like eating and sleep. I'll be honest…I'm intimidated." He nearly giggled.

"Shut up," she playfully snarled once she realized he'd been teasing, planting her knee on his chest to hold him down while she wrested the box from his hand. "Or you won't get to use any more of them."

"Who's that punish more, me or you?" he devilishly glinted.

It was hard to tell which of his many looks she liked best, but the troublemaking one was definitely one of her favorites.

"Speaking of punishments," he added, "how long are you going to disappear for this time?"

"That wasn't a punishment."

"It's gonna feel like one if I have to go a whole month again without seeing you." His mood turned more serious before he asked, "That is…if I even get to see you again?"

"Of course you will," she answered, smiling, but feeling like she could mourn as he looked through her. Of course he seemed to notice. How did such a fun day sour so quickly?

"I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be welcomed if I stopped at Shepherd's place to see you. I have no phone number where I can call you, hell, I don't even know your last name."

"I'll figure out a way for you to reach me. Just give me some time," she stated calmly. She hopped up, walking over to the desk. "I'm hungry," she said, searching through the drawer to see if there were any menus. She rifled through a hotel binder for a moment before she found the right page. "What, you not hungry?" she asked when she didn't hear a response.

He didn't answer, and she looked over her shoulder at him, seeing the way his eyes were glued to her back. She hadn't bothered to cover her body, forgetting about the large, dark bruise she'd gotten only two days earlier that had been hidden from his sight until that moment.

"Oh," she tried to explain, squelching her uncertainty as best as she could. She didn't care for the feeling of being taken by surprise. "I was at home and we were working on—"

He shook his head, clearly not wanting her to continue. Maybe he knew the words she was about to speak would be lies.

"Let me help you," he finally said, his voice so serene and kind that it stung in her ears.

"I don't need your help," she said, shaking her head. "I don't need anyone's help."

"I know you don't _need_ my help. But that doesn't mean you couldn't use it. Did Shepherd do that to you?"

"No," she huffed.

"What's going on? Tell me what I can do to make you trust me?"

"It's not only a matter of trust. I like you too much to let you get involved in this," she admitted. Her voice sounded angrier than she'd intended, but she needed him to know she was serious.

"And I like you too much not to get involved," he argued.

She felt a boiling turmoil within. She was angry at him for bringing this up. Angry at herself for letting him so close. But most of all, she was furious with herself for even considering trusting anyone. She was losing control, letting emotions roam freely in her head, and yet she didn't seem to want to do the right thing and walk out of there.

With mounting irritation, she dropped her hands at her side and said, "We don't have much time together. You want to talk about this stuff? You want to talk about things that might make you hate me, or pity me? I don't want to talk about them. I want to have fun. I want to laugh and fuck around. I want to eat room service for the first time in my life. I want to forget about everything outside of this room. Can't we do that? Can't we just be together and have fun?"

She didn't understand why his head bowed a bit and he looked away. Wouldn't almost every other man on the planet be thrilled with an offer like that? His shoulders looked heavier, like it took a little more effort to breathe. Holding out his hand, he asked, "Pass me the menu?"

She handed the binder to him, feeling relieved that he agreed and determined to enjoy these hours of freedom with him. She jumped onto the bed, taking a few long steps before she flopped next to him. He went through the motions, without a guilt trip or sulking, but he just seemed different, sadder. He offered to pick up the food bills since she'd paid for the room, and when she told him it wasn't necessary, he said, "Seems fair," in a way that sounded much more laden with subtext than the words had made it seem.

He got up and grabbed a clean pair of jeans and a shirt from his bag, and she disapprovingly stated, "You don't have to get dressed."

"I'll get the door when the food comes," he answered. Trying to jest, he added, "I answer the door naked, and that poor waiter is just gonna feel bad about himself for the rest of his life."

She smiled even as she scoffed, noting that he was trying to joke around like everything was fine, but it was easy to tell that something had changed.

* * *

Kurt answered the door when the food came, and Remi dashed into the bathroom with some clothes as well. He took the tray and carried it in, silently reproaching himself for feeling so hurt. Remi had no reason to trust him, and he had no right to harbor deeper feelings for her after such a short time. He told himself that this was only some adult version of puppy love, and he shouldn't take everything so seriously. But damn, all he could hear in his head was her insistence that they should just "have fun together" and it became clear that his emerging feelings were completely lopsided compared to hers.

As if that didn't hurt enough, part of what was really gnawing at him was the realization that her life had probably been far worse than what she'd led on, and it wasn't like she'd painted an ideal picture to start with. She had a strange scar below her shoulder that he thought looked suspiciously like a bullet wound. There was a gash on her stomach that had been long healed, but he could feel the mass of scar tissue beneath, and knew it must have been a very deep cut. Those things that he could attribute to her past were unsettling, but when he started to realize that many bruises and injuries were newer, he wondered how much danger she was still in on a regular basis.

He sat on the desk chair and looked at the reflective silvery covers over their food, wondering if he should stay or go, but even though it was going to hurt in the long run, he didn't want to give up his time with her.

She came out of the bathroom, dressed but more for bed than to leave, which was some small relief to him. She sat on the edge of the bed, very near his chair, their knees only a few inches apart. He pulled off the food covers and surveyed the plates, asking, "Want me to move the tray over there?"

Remi appeared to be giving the question more thought than what should have been required. Kurt picked up a potato wedge and took a bite. She sighed so deeply that he realized her thoughts weren't on the food. "Have you ever wondered if someone or something you believe in, something you've built your whole life on, is wrong?" she asked.

He bobbed his head, dusting the salt from his fingers, and truthfully responded, "Yea."

"I need you to promise me that you won't say anything to anyone about this conversation. And that you will never use it to go after Roman or Shepherd."

"Of course," he started to answer, but noticed that his reply didn't seem to be sufficient. "I promise."

"I don't want to lie, but there are things I can't tell you, so I won't. It's for your own good. If you try to push me for more, the conversation is over."

"Okay."

"Shepherd gave us purpose," Remi confessed. "Roman and I were angry and confused, full of rage when she took us in. We were monsters. And…she helped us channel that. She told us we could make a difference, be heroes instead of monsters. I believed her for a long time. And now…I don't know what the truth is. I don't know if I should believe everything I've been told. I can't trust anyone anymore. Not Shepherd or Oscar. Sometimes I'm not sure if I even trust my brother. My brother means everything to me, I mean everything to him, but he looks up to Shepherd. He really sees her as his mother. She's very good at manipulating, especially him."

"What changed?" he asked.

"I was dating this man, one of Shepherd's ex-army buddies, in secret. We were all in a meeting, one of the first I'd ever been invited to. He and Shepherd disagreed about how to handle something, and she asked what I thought. I sided with him because I thought he was right. I thought the information we needed was worth the risks. She washed her hands of the whole thing, told us that we were on our own, and that I would have to accept the consequences of my decisions. It was probably the only time she really let me make an important decision."

Remi continued, "He asked me to go in with him for the exchange…these weren't nice people, I knew that, but they had information that we couldn't get from anyone else. He gave me a large yellow envelope, and told me I'd be responsible for paying. When we got there, they started talking, and something didn't feel right. I looked in the envelope, and the only thing inside was a pile of blank index cards. The envelope wasn't the payment."

"What do you mean?"

"I was the payment. He traded me for the information he needed."

"Wait," Kurt shook his head, feeling suddenly very un-hungry, "You can't trade people."

"The leader of that group had seen me before at a meeting with Shepherd. He didn't want money. Before my so-called boyfriend left, he told me that it was 'for the greater good' and that 'difficult sacrifices had to be made.' He told me I was a hero. But he walked out alone with the intel for Shepherd, and never looked back."

Kurt reached out to hold her, terrified for her because of the things she'd been through, wanting to offer comfort. But she put up her hand, clearly unable to accept such an offer at that moment. His hand fell to her knee as he faced her, though, and she allowed it to remain. Taking a steadying breath, she put her hand on top of his.

"Shepherd came to find you?" he asked, hoping that was the truth.

Remi shook her head slowly. "I was on my own, tied up in some basement, barely dressed, with these guards. Later that night, they were ordered to move me to another location. They were all disgusting, leering at me like…god," she closed her eyes for a moment before she shook the image from her mind. "They were all around me, holding me tight against them, wouldn't give me any room, I could barely breathe. They were supposed to take me to their boss, but one of them decided that they deserved to 'have their turn' with me first. I don't think I ever felt so trapped, like there was no hope that I could ever get away. I figured that, eventually, they'd kill me. But death sounded like the better option, you know? The guard standing behind me, he had his arm around my neck, but loosened it for a second. He was messing with his zipper and I think it was stuck or something. But he was distracted, and that gave me my chance. I was able to free myself and get away."

"That's amazing," Kurt said, still horrified, but elated that she'd managed to get free. Her strength was as beautiful as the rest of her.

She shook her head, closing her eyes as he saw a singular tear dampen her eyelashes, but it didn't fall.

"I killed him," she blurted out. He could see the anticipation on her face, the moment when she expected him to begin to hate her. "I snapped his neck with my bare hands. Still think that's amazing?"

"Yes. I do," he said, his voice full of sorrow.

"You look at me and you see a normal girl that you can date and take home, and I'm not that person."

"I have never looked at you and seen some 'normal girl,'" he said, leaning closer. "I'm sorry you had to do that, but you were protecting yourself. Do you really think I'd expect you to let them keep you there, to let them rape and kill you without putting up a fight?" Keeping one hand on her knee, the other moved to her face, one finger directing her to look at him. "I'm glad you fought them. If I would have been there," he vowed, "I would have done whatever it took to get you out of there. That's what you did…you did what you needed to do to survive."

"You should know what I'm capable of…some of the things I've done."

"What did Shepherd do when she found out the guy, your boyfriend and her ex-army buddy, traded you?" Kurt redirected.

Remi shook her head, facing another difficult memory, "She said she warned me. She was right. Said I chose the wrong side, and that, just like she warned, I had to face the consequences. Then she welcomed me back home, told me that she was proud that I survived. An hour later, she was talking about my next job."

"You're not still seeing him, are you?" Kurt asked, feeling a growing hatred for a nameless and faceless being.

"No," she vehemently answered. "It's over now. I—I gave myself to him. He was my first. I'd gone out on a few dates with guys before, but he was my only boyfriend. Everyone looked up to him, said what a great man he was and a wonderful leader. He was charismatic, so easy to follow. I believed him when he said he loved me. I trusted him completely. It was all a huge mistake. I hate him. I hate myself for being fooled, for believing in him and for thinking that I mattered to him at all. I promised myself I wouldn't get involved with anyone ever again. And I didn't. Until…" she glanced up at Kurt, a myriad of subtle emotions crossing her face. "Until you," she confessed. "I know you can see how fucked up I am. I'm cold. I need to be in control, all of the time."

"You aren't cold, you're cautious. It's completely understandable," he affirmed, but he knew how important it was for her to feel in control.

He felt many things in that moment, intense fury for the things she'd been subjected to, the desire to take her and run as far away from there as they could go, and most of all, a sense of responsibility and privilege that, for whatever reason, she'd chosen to open up to him.

And then he started to do the math, realizing that she would have been even younger at the time that her _boyfriend_ traded her for information. He also realized that the man who'd betrayed her, whom Remi had referred to as one of 'Shepherd's ex-army buddies' was likely much older as well. Kurt felt all of the hatred he'd harbored for his father combine into this rage toward Remi's betrayer. Taylor was much younger than Remi had been, but she was still young, and whoever that man was, he destroyed a part of her.

"Shepherd," he began, trying to tame the seething rage he felt, "she cut ties with the guy, right?"

Remi shook her head. "Part of what really bothers me…is that I've always questioned if she had some idea of what was going to happen. Like a test or maybe to prove a point, to make me fall in line when I was starting to question things. I tried to forget the idea, push it out of my head. I had no proof, so I assumed I was being paranoid. But then again recently, I did something she didn't like, and she tried to put me in line again. Now I don't know if I'm being paranoid because I can't trust anyone or if…if the woman I've followed and trusted for almost a decade betrayed me, too. I handle a lot of business for her because she knows I can get any job done. But my work…it's dangerous."

"So stop working for her."

"If I won't do the jobs, she'll send Roman."

Kurt tried to swallow his frustration, but his throat was dry and tight. "Can't you both leave?" Kurt asked, wanting nothing more than to make sure she never stepped foot on that farm again.

"Shepherd would find me. I know things…things that she doesn't want other people to know. And what about Roman?" she asked, the worry on her face making him realize that she'd probably considered this many times before.

"Take him with you."

"Shepherd keeps him under control. Roman's…unpredictable. He needs a lot of structure."

"If there's one thing I've learned in the military academy, it's structure," Kurt offered. "I could help."

"Sure," she sarcastically answered, "the three of us could all sleep in your bunk…no one would notice."

Kurt's mind was racing, trying to think of any way to get them out of there. "I'll come up with something."

"You can't talk to anyone about this," she reminded.

"I won't. I swear. I will not break your trust, Remi. I'll prove it to you…I'm not like Shepherd. Or that… _guy,_ " he spat the last word. "I'm not like any of them."

"I know," she answered, blinking slowly, her voice so clear and certain that the honesty dripped from each word. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't. Even though I believe it, even though I want to let go and trust you, part of me can't. I still always feel the need to have the upper hand. To be in control because I'm scared of what will happen if I stop."

He could still see the fear behind the mask, the self-doubt that made her wonder if she had been making a huge mistake in trusting him. She misunderstood his expression and said, "I told you, I don't want your pity."

"It's not pity," he shook his head. "You're strong and you seem like you never give up. Why would I pity someone like that? But that doesn't stop me from hating the people who've done those things to you. And…I'm worried."

"I can handle myself."

"But you're not invincible," he calmly replied. "And that mark on your back isn't old."

She got up and straightened the covers, like she'd flipped a switch and the discussion was over, and they hadn't just shared an incredibly personal exchange of information. He wanted to know more. What was Shepherd really doing, and what were these runs and exchanges? What the hell had happened to her as a child and how did she learn to snap necks and fight off multiple attackers successfully? Would she even be able to fully trust him and run far away from Shepherd if he found a way?

He had his own obligations to think about as well, to Sarah and the military. And it wasn't like he had a ton of money lying around, apart from the money he'd saved for Sarah's education. Not to mention that he couldn't just leave the academy for a few months and return at will.

"It's getting cold," she said, interrupting his thoughts as she pointed at the food.

She placed a clean towel over the sheets, like she was setting up a picnic. "Is this okay?"

"Yea," he answered softly, carrying the tray over.

She stopped, hands on her hips as she very authoritatively stated, "If you want to call this off, I completely get it—"

"I don't," he interrupted.

"Seriously, I'd understand. Just be upfront. I can take it."

"I don't," he said so loudly that he nearly yelled. "I'm not breaking it off. I don't even want us to leave on Sunday, okay? But I know I can't convince you otherwise…and I have nowhere to take you even if I could convince you."

"You know I have to go back."

"Yea. But do one thing for me."

"What?" she guardedly asked.

"Promise me you'll think about it. Maybe think about leaving, if we can figure it all out."

"Kurt," she cautioned.

"I'm just asking you to think about it. That's it."

"I'll think about it," she answered. "But I don't see how you're going to find a way out for me and Roman."

"I will," Kurt said, deciding then and there that he wouldn't stop until he figured it out.

* * *

She lay awake in bed later that night. Her mind argued, as it often did, between whether she was crazy for not trusting him or a fool for even thinking about it. She'd been taught time and again, from some of her earliest memories of childhood on, that she had to protect herself first. And the only time she'd forgotten that, she'd been horribly betrayed. Thinking about trusting someone again was sheer insanity.

Still, she found herself smiling as she watched him rest, the way his lip moved when he exhaled with the relaxed tempo of deep sleep. She'd smiled often when she'd thought about him during the last month.

She rolled on her side, her back to him, to look at the clock. Almost as soon as she'd moved, he rolled on his side to follow her, his arm wrapping her up. There were a few moments when her survival instincts kicked in and she felt the rush of adrenaline that sped up her heart and told her to run. Closing her eyes, she slowly blew the air from her lungs, calming her nerves as she somewhat awkwardly told herself to lie still.

Once she did, his arm seemed to automatically tighten. His hand moved to the center of her chest and placed pressure against it, encouraging her body closer to his. A few more steady breaths lowered her pounding heart rate, and with great determination, she leaned her back to his chest and closed her eyes. For a few minutes, it was terribly uncomfortable. His arm over her felt like a cage, and the fact that she couldn't see behind her made her mind prepare for the worst. But she wasn't ready to quit. After all, her rational self knew that at that moment he was sleeping, completely nonthreatening, and more cuddly and comfortable than dangerous. She believed fully in the importance of self-preservation and protection, but there was a fine line between acting in self-protection and acting out of fear. Remi was never one to allow fear to run her life. As difficult as this was, he seemed worth it. And if she was wrong this time, well, at least she'd know that she tried, refusing to let fear get in her way.

It took much less time than she'd anticipated to start to relax. She began matching her breath to his, feeling the steady cadence of his heartbeat against her back. A satisfied sigh rumbled in his chest. After a few moments, when she felt she'd successfully put fear in its place, she rolled and faced him, taking a moment to study him. The only light in the room came from a fixture near the door, barely illuminating their bed, but enough to make out the lines of his face. As her eyes focused in the dark, she took in his handsome features, and felt her heart whispering its affirmation of her choice.

She steadied herself for a moment, entwining her legs between his, wrapping her arm around his back and pulling him toward her. There was a momentary panic as some of his weight pushed her side down into the bed. His arm reached around her, his shoulder resting in the center of her chest. She was just getting used to it when his eyes fluttered open. He groaned and pushed his palm to the bed to lift away from her, mumbling his apologies.

She tightened her arms around his chest and shook her head. "Stay here?" she requested.

Although his expression was uncertain, he carefully lowered back down, and she could feel the way he still tried to hold himself up. He waited, his nose resting against her jaw, the backs of his fingers climbing her ribs each time he stroked her side.

After a little time had passed, he asked, "Should I move now?" before he pressed a kiss below her ear.

She shook her head, letting one arm curl around his neck to hold his head in place. "No," she answered. "I think—I think this is okay."

Just a few seconds later, she could tell he was sleeping. And it actually felt… _good_. As hard as she'd worked to remain unattached to him, she started to think she was going to miss the feeling of him beside her, and was grateful that she still had another night to spend like this before they'd have to go back to their separate lives.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Sunday morning Kurt woke to the feeling of Remi's arms around his neck, holding him tightly in place. Every time he'd stirred they'd been tangled with each other, and she seemed increasingly at ease within his embrace. She was wrapped around him like a blanket, mumbling something against his neck. He couldn't tell if she was even awake.

He tried to move out from under her, the need to pee making it impossible to remain in her grasp for any longer. She groaned unhappily when he slid her onto the bed alone, so he kissed her forehead and whispered, "Be back in a sec."

Kurt knew it was very possible that he'd lost his mind over this woman. It was nearly eight o'clock that Sunday morning, the weekend rapidly evaporating. He lamented each second that passed, bringing them closer to the end of their weekend together. On one hand he was happy and grateful that what had begun with the misfortune of a broken vehicle had brought them together. And yet that happiness existed next to the fact that the obstacles between them were many and significant, and this situation was far from simple.

He spent nearly every quiet moment considering ways to help Remi get away from Shepherd. His fear for Remi's safety dampened the drunkenly happy feelings of new love that were forcing their way into him. He'd thought about going to the farm, taking Remi and Roman, picking up Sarah, and driving until they crossed a border and hit an ocean. Canada or Mexico, maybe further into Central or South America. Shepherd wouldn't find them there, would she? And more rational parts of his mind reprimanded him for his foolishness as they reminded him of certain realities. If he and Remi crossed state lines with their siblings, they could probably be accused of kidnapping. That wouldn't help anyone involved. If Shepherd was half as dangerous as Remi acted like she was, they'd always be looking over their shoulders. Other ideas seemed to come and go, but each was flawed.

He would have been lying if he said the thought of offering to marry her hadn't crossed his mind. He could finish school, become an officer, and she could be an army bride. It wouldn't be a glamorous life, but they could travel to places far from Pennsylvania. Even if she didn't love him, at least she would be out of Shepherd's reach. Maybe they could petition for custody of Roman and Sarah. But even as he worked through the steps of that plan, he knew it was absolutely insane. She'd probably think he was crazy if he even joked about the idea.

They barely knew each other. And yet, he probably knew her better than he'd known any of the other women he'd dated. He'd definitely shared more with her than he had with any other human being. She'd told him of her betrayal, and later, he'd told her everything about Taylor, even those painful details that he would have rather withheld. In spite of the horrors she'd faced, she listened to his story with concern, showing empathy that he hadn't really expected. The thing that surprised him the most was when she'd said, "A kid should be able to trust his own father. I guess we're the same in that way, both completely betrayed by someone we really thought we could trust. I don't think you ever really move past something like that."

At first he'd dismissed her suggestion, but she argued her point quite successfully, and eventually he started to see her perspective. When she noted, somewhat casually, "Maybe that's why you seem to understand me better than most people," he couldn't help but feel hopeful that she was feeling the connection between them as deeply as he was.

The space between them, both physical and emotional, was shriveling. The sex was already fantastic, and only seemed to get better with repetition, despite tiredness and the fact that he felt half beat up. But they weren't only sharing a sexual bond. That much was undeniable. Even if everything were to end the next day, he knew that what they'd already shared was something meaningful, and he'd probably compare every other woman to her.

Pausing to brush his teeth while he was in the bathroom, he stared in the mirror, telling himself to be patient and keep his head on his shoulders. He wasn't one for rash decisions and foolhardy mistakes. Of course he'd never felt anything like this before, so these were uncharted waters.

He rounded the corner as he came out of the bathroom, but she wasn't sleeping. She knelt on the edge of the bed, her body illuminated by a bedside lamp that she'd turned on while he'd been gone. "You're gorgeous. Do you know that?" he asked.

She shook her head, and even though he couldn't clearly see her eyes, he suspected that she was rolling them at him.

"You _are_ ," he insisted, thoroughly studying her naked body.

"Enough talk. Get over here," she ordered, pointing to the ground in front of her.

"So demanding," he teased.

She shook her head and countered, "You're pretty gorgeous yourself…so I'm going to take advantage of you as much as I can before we have to go."

He could hear a hint of disappointed sadness in her voice at the mention of leaving. "Hey, we can find ways to meet up more often. I'm willing to be taken advantage of by you pretty much whenever you want," he replied.

"I'll remember you said that," she answered cheekily, standing on the bed.

He approached, kissing her chest between her breasts while he palmed one in each hand. She hopped onto him, wrapping her legs high around his waist while her arms hooked behind his neck. She used her toes to push his boxers down until they were lowered far enough to fall the rest of the way on their own.

Although he wasn't typically a man to complain about a sexy woman who demanded to be on top of him, part of him wanted to be able to exert a little more control. He wanted her to surrender the upper hand _sometimes_ , to trust him enough to lower her defenses and know that nothing bad would ever happen when he was the one she was beneath. He reminded himself to be patient, this was all so new and exciting, and he would wait as long as she needed. But it was damn hard to wait when she was the woman before him. Right as he was considering all of this, she asked, "Hey. You bored with me already?"

"God no," he loudly answered. "Not at all. Not even a tiny bit."

"Then why do you look so distracted? What the hell are you thinking about?"

He paused, because his first instinct was to reply, _How bad I want to throw you down on that bed and make love to you,_ but he thought better of it. More cautiously but with equal honesty, he verbally answered, "You. I'm thinking about you. How could I think about anything else?"

She tightened her jaw as she mumbled, "I have had more orgasms this weekend than I can count. So why do I still want you so bad?"

"Me too, honey," he replied, realizing that she was already a little breathless.

The temptation was to slide into her as he stood there, to wriggle her hips a little lower and see what it felt like to be inside her without anything between them. Maybe just for a minute or two?

He nearly asked if he could, hormones and biological urges contesting with more responsible forces for dominance. Ultimately he wasn't sure if her trust in him ran that deep, and he didn't want to ruin the mood, so he decided to withhold the question. He wasn't even sure if he trusted himself enough to stop in time. His mind seemed too willing to throw caution to the wind wherever Remi was involved.

He carried her to the bedside table, fumbling on the surface behind her for a condom, trying like hell to continue making mature decisions even when he didn't want to. She was already kissing him, anxiously pushing her pelvis against him like she was more desperate for relief than he was. She hitched up higher on him, entrusting him to keep them both safe while she was hurrying things along. As soon as he had it on, he pressed a hand to the small of her back to encourage her to lower her body onto his. She leaned back, bracing on the table behind her, rocking her hips against him before he was even prepared for such powerfully pleasurable sensations.

"Hang on," he chuckled, leaning over her and tenderly finding her lips while he tried to gain some semblance of control. His hands gripped tightly on her hips as he buried himself to the hilt inside her, listening to her call out with desirous consent as he did so. He pulled out completely, cockily smirking when he saw her vexed expression before he pushed back into her and she moaned his name in approval. "Say it like that again," he requested with long leisurely strokes in and out of her body.

As he sought her depths again and again, his name was on her lips. She steadied herself on the table, her shoulders against the wall, and although she wasn't really under him, he definitely had her pinned in that spot. She didn't appear to be at all uneasy about it.

She reached behind his neck, lifting her face to his and nipping his lip kind of roughly before she soothed it with a slow, wet kiss. She was definitely the most erotic creature he'd ever encountered. "Harder, Weller," she demanded, tipping her body back again with complete faith that he wouldn't allow her to fall.

He drove into her with more force, grunting a "Yes ma'am," always ensuring that she was still enjoying herself. He could barely be bothered to think of taking precautions or remember his own damn name, but he always seemed to be able to make sure Remi was okay.

As she really began to let go, Remi's surrender was unrestrained and whole. She was a very responsive and vocal partner, something he had a particular fondness for. The more she moaned, the more he pounded into her, trying to elicit an even greater reaction. She met each thrust with her own furtive response until she fell completely against the table and dragged him along. Her fingers dug into his sides, her excitement provoking his own. "Baby, I'm coming," she started, her voice quivering as she added, "don't you dare stop." As if that was even possible, their voices crying out in synchronized release, neglecting to notice the way they'd half climbed onto the table as they chased each other.

"Damn," she gasped before she'd even started to recover, "I'm _really_ gonna miss you this week."

"Me too," he answered, finally opening his eyes and trying to figure out why it was darker. Maybe she'd fucked him blind.

"Careful," she said when he started to pull away, pointing at the floor.

The lamp that had been on the table was on the floor, the bulb smashed into tiny shards and the shade flung across the room. He'd never even heard it fall. He felt like just finding his breath was a task. Their foreheads and noses were touching, and she took his face in her hands and held it. "You're really good in bed," she said, laughing softly. "And apparently on tables. And hammocks. And chairs and floors."

"Because I have a really good partner," he complimented.

The fuzzy previous moments began to sharpen in his mind, and he could hear the sound of her calling out, _Baby, I'm coming,_ the reverberations echoing in his mind. He probably wouldn't normally choose that particular term of endearment for himself, but something about her saying it in that way, at that moment, to him, was fucking music to his ears.

How was he going to make it through the days to come? What was it about this thing between them that made it so hard to let go of her? Then he realized she was partially trapped, so he stood upright, taking a moment to tie off the used condom and toss it in the trash before he fell back on the bed and dragged her onto his torso.

* * *

Her fingers brushed along his chest as she noted, "I can't seem to get enough of you."

"Good news for me," he answered.

She felt a surge of concern as the gravity of what was happening between them came into focus. Shaking her head, she explained, "This is so crazy."

"Maybe a little," he granted.

The flood of post-orgasmic hormones clouded her defenses, and she questioned, "There is _something_ more between us, right?"

"Hunh?" he asked, his thumb brushing her lip. He seemed to circle around to understanding, eventually, and said, "I think so. I mean…I hope so."

"It's just that…"

She couldn't seem to continue, but he waited, seeming unendingly patient with her. "What?" he asked, looking almost hopeful for whatever she might tell him.

"This is so much, so fast."

"Yea," he agreed. "But that doesn't mean it's not good. Sometimes it doesn't take long to figure out when something fits."

She was aimlessly playing with the hairs on his chest, feeling oddly at ease with him even though their relationship was so young. "It is good. I…I had no idea when you showed up that we'd end up like this."

"Me neither," he chuckled. "I was too busy worrying that you were gonna kick my ass."

"Why?" she laughed, searching his face for answers.

"Because I called you Candy…"

"Roman was actually surprisingly nice to you that day."

"I can still picture you perfectly, fixing that tractor…the very first moment I saw you."

"Really?" she asked.

Her ex had never said or done anything that made her feel the way Kurt seemed to so easily. Frank had always made her feel useful, important and trustworthy. Maybe, like Shepherd, Frank had always seen her more as an operative than a person. In fact, everything about being with Kurt was more intense, more exciting, and more addictive. Part of her wanted to tell him that she could see this thing between them lasting, no matter how impractical it all appeared. But it seemed unfair to offer hope when she wasn't really free to make her own choices.

"What _is_ your last name?" he asked.

"I know that seems like a simple question, but it's a lot more complicated than you think," she answered. And yet again, she was torn between the idea that maybe they had a real future together, built on honesty, and the urge to protect him from certain realities. If this went wrong, Shepherd might take her frustration out on Kurt. Or maybe she'd just send Remi into a mission she couldn't possibly survive. But even with those cautionary warnings ringing in her ears, she said, "I thought it was Briggs, for a little while. That's Shepherd's last name. But looking back, I don't think it was ever officially changed to that. I've gone by lots of names. The only one I'm sure of is Kruger. That was my name when I was born." It was the first time she'd said that name since Shepherd had taken them in. She had encouraged the kids to shed that old life and never look back.

Strangely, Kurt didn't push for additional information then either. He seemed content with her attempt.

They were quiet for a little while, both near sleep, until he cleared his throat and said, "I was thinking…"

"Wow. I'm impressed," she joked, feeling his fingers tickling the space next to her hips in retaliation.

"I'm being serious," he argued. "I was thinking that I have a holiday break coming up for Thanksgiving. I was wondering if you want to spend it with me. Together."

"I don't know if I can—"

"You have a couple of weeks to try to work it out. Or maybe I could come up to the farm. I'm a pretty good cook. If I could try to prove to Shepherd that I'm worthy of her daughter—"

"You don't know Shepherd," Remi unhappily chuckled. "It's not a matter of whether or not you're worthy. She doesn't care either way. It's not like that. She doesn't want distractions."

"Still, if I could win her over, show her that I could be—"

"No," Remi interrupted, sitting up. "I don't _want_ you to win her over. If you impress her, she'll just try to bring you in, make you one of us. I don't want to see that happen to you. I couldn't live with that."

He was staring up at her, his expression still so honest and affectionate. No one had ever looked at her the way he did, and she doubted that if she lived fifty years more, anyone ever would again.

"I…" she began, her feelings bubbling to the surface as she came dangerously close to saying something she couldn't easily unsay. "I want to spend Thanksgiving with you. I really do. So I'll see what I can work out."

"I should warn you, my sister will probably be there. We could invite Roman. It won't be like this, just you and me, but it would still be fun. It would probably be good to see if everyone gets along."

"Why?" she asked, sounding incredulous but knowing perfectly well what she hoped his motivations were.

"If things work out with us…" he began, then looked away, appearing to be carrying on an argument that she wasn't privy to. "I might be in your life for a while. If you feel like being in mine, we should see if Roman and Sarah can get along."

His face looked very serious, maybe even panicked while he waited for her response. Deciding to put him out of his misery, she nodded, "Yea. You're right."

"I am?" he asked with a combination of happiness and relief.

"Yea. I'll see what I can do."

She smiled sweetly, but quietly wished she could be normal. An invitation for a shared holiday wouldn't make most people worry like this.

* * *

The final minutes of the weekend disappeared into cuddling, sex, and whispered conversation. Kurt and Remi had been pulled toward one another so fully that leaving felt like it required an actual severing of the connection between them. Kurt could see how badly she wanted to remain in that room, away from reality. He was more than a little pleased to see the attachment she'd begun to feel for him, but at the same time, he hated that he was powerless to stop the ending of their getaway, and her inevitable return to the farm. As much as he wanted to help, it seemed like there was nothing he could do… _yet_.

Moments before they left their room, he took her hand and requested, "Tell me I'll see you again?"

She swallowed, looking away for a second, but then she replied, "I will do everything I can to see you again. Very soon."

He hated this sense of feeling completely at the mercy of Shepherd and her agenda, like her hold on Remi was an all-powerful and unavoidable force. He fought the urge to drag her back to bed and beg her not to go.

After she dropped him off back at the academy, he watched her drive away, realizing as he felt the aching pain in his chest that he was completely in love. This definitely wasn't a crush or a passing attraction, so denying it seemed pointless.

The following days, he felt colder, experiencing a sense of unshakable malaise that denial didn't mitigate. He concentrated on his duties, on school and training, and Sarah, trying to make one day pass into the next as he hoped that, wherever she was, Remi was safe.

He'd gone ten days without seeing or hearing from her. Ten long, slow days. Climbing into his bunk late that night, he noted how damn uncomfortable it was. The lumpy spot near his shoulders and the dip that his hip fell into had never bothered him before. Most of all, he missed the woman who already seemed to belong tucked against his side. He tried to find the right spot to sleep, shoving his arm under the pillow and listening as something fell from his bunk to the ground.

He hopped down, his roommates loudly complaining that he was disrupting their sleep. Finding the object that had fallen, a small cardboard box, he took it and climbed back into bed and turned on his reading light. His name was scrawled across the top, the smell of thick black permanent marker still lingering. There was no other label or indication of the contents. If Sarah had sent it, there would have been a shipping label, so he guessed it was a prank from some jackass at school.

Ripping back the tape, he saw an envelope inside. He laughed aloud when he read the message written on the envelope:

 _Miss you like hell,_

 _Candy_

His heart thudded as he realized that, somehow, Remi had managed to deliver this not only to the academy, but to his room and beneath his pillow. He wished he could have seen her, even if just for a minute or two. Tearing the envelope open, he dumped the contents onto his bunk, and saw a cell phone and a charger. He flipped it open, and inside there was a sticky note that said only _Thursday 22:00._

Realizing that he still had a full day before the time noted on the message, he felt disappointed, but maybe now he'd actually have some contact with her. At least he hoped it was her, and not Shepherd or Roman who'd delivered the package. "You guys see who dropped this off?" he asked the room.

"Dropped what off?" Miller asked, sitting up and glaring in Kurt's direction. Kurt held up the box and Miller shook his head and flipped toward the wall to try to sleep.

"Silva," Kurt hollered at his other roommate.

After the third time hearing his name, Silva jolted up and asked, "What the fuck, Weller?"

Kurt showed him the package and said, "Did you see someone dropping this off or anyone unfamiliar hanging around our room?"

"No!" Silva yelled. "And if you wake me up one more time—"

"Relax, Precious," Kurt goaded, "All the beauty sleep in the world isn't gonna help your ugly ass."

Kurt lay down, tracing the words she'd written on the envelope. Only a few minutes earlier, he'd been so exhausted that he could barely keep his eyes open, but after he'd heard from her again, sleep was the furthest thing from his mind.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N-Hey all! Just a few LONG days left until Season 3! Hurray. Thanks so much to every member of this amazing fandom for your continued interest and kindness. I'm sorry to say that I will not have this story done before the premiere, since there are still several chapters left. I had really hoped to have it finished before Friday, but I don't want to rush to the end without telling the whole story. I hope everyone enjoys the start of Season 3...we've been waiting forever!**

* * *

 **Chapter 9**

When the cell phone rang at the expected time, Kurt answered immediately, hearing the sound of a smile in Remi's voice. He was so relieved to find that it was her, and not Shepherd or Roman. He'd walked far across campus to a quiet place by a pond where he knew he'd have some time with her uninterrupted by his roommates or anyone else. Although he was prepared to sit out there and talk to her all night, she spoke to him for only a few minutes before she had to go. She told him her phone would usually be off, but if he needed to reach her he could send a text, and she'd try to check it every day.

She spoke at a whisper the whole time, suddenly saying, "I've gotta go. Tomorrow night, same time?"

"Yea—," he replied, unable to say anything else before the line went silent.

Their calls were often quick, sometimes a bit longer, and some nights she didn't manage to call at all, but he would wait at his quiet spot near the pond. Those nights, when she was silent, he couldn't help but worry until he heard from her again, hoping like hell that she wasn't being held prisoner or in a hospital somewhere where he couldn't find her. The calls, for the most part, eased the frustration he felt at missing her, giving him something to look forward to and the chance to confirm that she was alright.

The following week, Kurt was called to the office of one of the administrators, General Neal. The General had always been good to Kurt, often helping him find side jobs so he could earn extra money. The General had even invited Kurt to dinner with his family a few times. Kurt guessed he was a bit of a project for the General, but since he respected the man, there were worse things to be.

Standing outside of the office, he waited quietly to be called in. The receptionist chatted softly on the phone before she covered the mouthpiece and said, "He'll see you now, Cadet."

"Thank you, ma'am," Kurt said as he went in.

The wood paneled room was dark and formal, giving an air of power and esteem to its occupant. But General Neal wasn't the person seated behind the desk. The lamp, hooded by a hunter green glass sconce, didn't cast much light on the unknown person's face.

"Sir?" Kurt asked as he attempted to identify the person before him.

"Cadet Weller," the figure said, his voice imposing but not unfriendly, "I've heard a great deal about you."

General Neal sat nearby, silently waiting on the brown leather sofa, his focus honed on the shelf-lined wall covered in thick, hardback books. The General didn't seem to even notice the two other people in the room.

"I'm sorry, sir, do I know you?" Kurt questioned.

"Colonel Rensing, son."

Even as they spoke, Kurt considered the way Neal seemed displaced in his own office, finding it additionally strange that he outranked the man behind the desk, yet seemed to be the one pushed aside. General Neal was well-respected, quite the authoritative presence, so he was almost always the most commanding personality in any room.

"I'll get straight to the point," Rensing said, "You're being considered for an elite training program for young soldiers such as yourself."

"What sort of program? Special Ops?"

"In a manner of speaking. We need leaders. Strong men, capable, tough, able to inspire others and command respect. Your name has been thrown around. From what I can see, you're exactly who we're looking for."

Kurt took a deep breath, keeping his thoughts to himself as he'd learned to do during his time at the academy. Rensing hadn't seen much of anything in the minute or so since Kurt had entered the room, so either Rensing was lying, or he'd been watching from afar. "I'd like to know more about it, sir," he opted to say.

"It's a unique opportunity, based in the northern Midwest. I can't tell you much more now, this program is exclusive, meant for only our very best, and highly secretive."

"I can't go to the Midwest now, sir."

"You're young yet, Weller. If this is about a girl, there are plenty of females out there, too."

"It's not that," Kurt partially lied, knowing that Remi preferred that he didn't talk about their relationship with anyone. "I'd like to finish my education first. And my sister, she's near, in Pennsylvania. She needs me."

"Sacrifice a little now and benefit in the future."

"I'm not sure if—"

"Give it some careful thought. Talk it over with your sister. It's not only good for your country and its citizens. It would be good for you and your family. To truly be successful, some sacrifice is required. I'm sure we could work something out to make sure your sister is cared for in your absence, or maybe even find a boarding school or something closer so she could join you. It could be an incredible chance for her, too, depending on whether you prove to be the asset we imagine you could be. There are certain _perks_ to this program. I take good care of my people, Weller."

Kurt wondered if his desire to get his sister far away from Clearfield was common knowledge. It was hard not to agree to the offer immediately just to get Sarah away from their father, but the program was ambiguous at best, and he wasn't sure if Sarah would be so eager to leave while still in high school.

The man came around and sat on the front of the desk. Since Kurt's vision was adjusting to the relative dimness, he could see for the first time the extraordinary paleness of the man's silvery eyes. He was very tall and slim, with sharply angular features. When he spoke, he was almost hard to turn away from.

"You have a bright future, son. Take a week and think about it. Talk to your sister about the possibility of a new situation. I'm sure she'll agree it's for the best once you explain it to her."

"I will, sir," Kurt said, still uncertain about the true meaning behind this meeting. Typically if something seemed too good to be true, it was.

"Come back next week, same day and time, and we'll talk it over. You should be honored to be considered for this, Cadet Weller. You could really be someone, the kind of man who makes a difference in this world."

"Thank you, sir."

"Dismissed."

Kurt turned toward the door, walking as swiftly as he appropriately could. Just as his hand touched the doorknob, Rensing said, "The campus here is beautiful in autumn, don't you think?"

"I guess so, sir," Kurt replied, tilting his head.

"Have you seen those massive trees down around the pond…oak or maple, who the hell knows," Rensing chuckled. "Must be a great place to sit after a long day."

The Colonel smiled for a long time, motionless like a paused video, awaiting a response that Kurt didn't have. He waited, watching while the older man finally moved, came closer, and put a hand heavily on his shoulder. Kurt tried to sift through the confusion of such a seemingly random statement. Did this guy know about the almost nightly calls with Remi, or was he becoming paranoid?

"Keep in mind, _Kurt_ ," the Colonel said, accentuating the use of his first name, "our candidates are judged on their character and behavior here at the academy as well as in their lives outside of this campus. Your actions must be beyond reproach."

"Have I been accused of something, sir?"

Rensing answered first with an unnerving chuckle. "Just some…sound advice. You don't want to do anything that might ruin your good name. Make good decisions, spend your free time wisely. We understand each other, don't we?"

"Of course, sir," Kurt said, leaving the moment Rensing dismissed him again. He walked down the hall, politely nodding at the secretary as he replayed the meeting in his mind.

* * *

When Kurt had powered up his phone the following Thursday night, he found a text from Remi's number: _Can't talk. Alexandria Train Station, Location 3, Friday 19:23_. Without any further details, he knew he was going to go. Of course if she'd asked him to meet on Neptune in twenty minutes, he would have at least _tried_ to meet her.

As directed, Kurt stood on the platform under the blue sign that read "Location 3," patiently waiting for whatever was about to happen. He wasn't quite sure what Remi intended, but if it meant an opportunity to be with her, he was game. A garbled announcement came over the speakers, informing those waiting that the train was running eight minutes behind. The possibility that this was a trap had certainly occurred to him. It was always possible that Shepherd found the phone and was trying to lure Kurt in, although such a public meeting place made that seem unlikely.

Since the meeting in General Neal's office, Kurt had wanted to talk to Remi. If the offer from Rensing was legitimate, maybe he could find a way to move Remi and Roman along with him. He was willing to sign up for a few additional years of service if it meant a way out and a safer life for Remi. As much as he hoped something like that would be possible, the meeting was sort of bizarre, as were Rensing's eerie comments that made Kurt suspect he was being monitored at the academy.

Somewhat impatiently, he began to pace, rain occasionally bouncing off the pavement and up onto his pant legs when he stood too near the edge of the platform where it wasn't covered by the awning. He heard the distant groan, first like a rumble, that grew louder as the train approached. The light at the front of the train became larger, and he studied the others waiting on the platform. There were only a few: a family of four who were going to Florida, a couple, and a few solo travelers, but no one who could be Remi. So, he decided, she must have been on the train already.

As it came to a stop, many people rushed out of the open doors, and he stood tall to look down into the crowd. He patrolled the platform as he searched, and when he passed one door, a fist grabbed his jacket and yanked him onto the train. His scowl melted when he saw Remi's face, her eyes gleaming excitedly.

She hauled him into a kiss in the next instant, but a conductor coughed his disapproval as he wanted to pass by, and they stepped into the rows of seats to let him through. "Do you have plans this weekend?" she asked.

"I do now. Where are we going?"

"Well, I have to work tomorrow. But I thought you might want to ride along."

"I don't have a ticket."

"Here," she said, holding it up. "You have one if you want it."

"We're going to Ft. Lauderdale?" he asked as he read the ticket.

"You are. Then you'll get off the train and take a different train back here. That'll give us about eighteen hours together, give or take."

"Or I could go with you, and we could ride back together?" he suggested, knowing already that she wouldn't allow him to be so involved.

In the back of his mind he could hear Rensing's warnings to keep his behavior 'beyond reproach.'

" _Your_ stop is Ft. Lauderdale. That's your only option if you want to come," she resolutely stated. "So staying here or riding with me?"

"I'll have to think about it," he joked, adding immediately, "riding with you, obviously."

Kurt reached for her waist over the seat back between them, leaning closer until the conductor returned and interrupted, "Ticket, young man?"

Remi handed it past Kurt and the conductor pointed them in the right direction. "I know where we're going," Remi said.

They hurried down the aisles and between cars, and Kurt felt a little disappointed that they'd spend their time surrounded by other people, but it was certainly better than not seeing her at all.

In the next car, the rows of facing seats were replaced by private cubicles. "This is it," she said, nodding into a room.

"This is for us?" he asked.

"Yea," Remi answered, stepping back into the room and leaning against the door while she closed it. "I thought people might complain if we're naked out there in the coach."

He would have joked back had his mouth not already been on hers. Between kisses and attempts to keep breath, they panted about how they'd missed each other. He heard Remi latch the lock on the door before he tugged at the back of her shirt to lift it. Her moan of approval was one of his favorite sounds in the world. He definitely preferred it to the sound of the gun that cocked before the cold barrel pushed against the base of his skull.

His hands immediately went to the side, and for a split second Remi was confused by his hesitation before her eyes grew wide. She ordered, "Get that gun away from—" but before she could finish, Kurt managed to grab the gun from the intruder's hand and punch him, sending him back against the opposing wall.

"Don't hurt him," Remi demanded, shoving her way between them. With pleading in her eyes, she asked, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Shouldn't I be the one asking that?" Roman questioned. "You're lucky it was me. Shepherd was going to send Oscar, but I talked her out of it. I told her I could handle it." Roman wiped the thin line of blood away from his cracked lip as he glowered at Kurt.

"Roman, you shouldn't have come here," Remi said, sitting him down on the bed as she followed.

"Did I ruin your little booty call?"

"Have a little respect, pal," Kurt argued.

"It's fine, Kurt," Remi warned. Turning her attention to Roman, she asked, "Why did Shepherd want me followed?"

"She's not stupid," Roman stated. "None of us are. You're different lately."

"I've done every job perfectly," Remi said.

"Congratulations. And in between jobs, you decided to risk _everything_ ," the teen said, beginning to yell. "Is it worth it? You're willing to be used by this stranger who will toss you to the side the second he finds easier legs to get between?"

"Keep talking like that," Kurt goaded. "Seriously, I'm begging you to."

Remi shot a look telling Kurt to keep quiet because she didn't need him to speak for her. Kurt crossed his arms and leaned back against the door, trying not to punch the kid. "I like him," Remi confided to her brother.

"This is a fucking disaster," Roman groaned. "How could you do this? If Shepherd finds out, she'll destroy you." Remi started to try to interrupt, but in a flash Roman reached down to his boot and pulled out a second handgun. "I can't lose you," Roman said. "I won't let that happen. If you won't end it with him, I will. You'll thank me later."

"Roman, I definitely will _not_ thank you. Give me the gun," Remi attempted to persuade.

Kurt could see a full and painful shared history in her eyes, and knew immediately that Roman was capable of killing him. "Hang on," Kurt said, his hands out. "This is not how this has to happen. If you shoot me here, you're going to get caught."

"Shut up," Roman screamed, his eyes red as he began to rock with panic. Beneath the anger, it was easy to see the fear in his eyes.

"You and me…we're on the same side."

"We're not on the same side of anything."

"We are when it comes to Remi. We both care about her. You've seen what happens to your sister, right?" Kurt asked. Roman looked at him with the same continued anxiety, but Kurt definitely had his attention. "You're not that naïve. I've seen how she looks when she gets back from her missions. The cuts and bruises. She's been shot and stabbed, right? And I don't think either of us really know everything she's been through out there, and we probably never will. She does what needs to be done to keep you safe, so Shepherd doesn't send you in. You know how some of those guys are, right? They see a beautiful woman like your sister, you know where their minds are—"

"Same place as yours?" Roman snapped. "I saw you when you came in here, and from what I saw, it didn't look like you were planning on just talking."

"No," Kurt shook his head. "I think she's beautiful, gorgeous really, but I'm not like them. I would _never_ hurt her."

"Right. You're a fucking saint," Roman sarcastically sneered. "Maybe she's falling for your bullshit act, but I'm not. You're saying the right stuff to her so you can screw around with her, and then throw her to the side like a piece of garbage."

"Shut your mouth and listen to me, Roman. I _love_ her," Kurt shouted angrily, pointing at Remi. He wanted to silence Roman's ridiculous accusations, and before he knew what he was saying, he'd confessed too much. The cabin became deathly silent, and he could feel both sets of eyes on him. More quietly, he stated, "I would never treat her like that."

"Sure," the younger man mumbled.

"I'm serious," Kurt stated, knowing that he couldn't back down now. "I am terrified of what could happen to her when she's working. I feel sick when I think about her out there, alone, or with people she can't really trust. Don't you?"

Roman looked at his sister then glanced away, shaking his head, but Kurt could see that Roman understood the sentiment all too well.

"So what's gonna happen? You going to run off into the sunset together?" Roman was becoming agitated again, appearing trapped and threatened, the gun less directly pointed at Kurt, but still clutched tightly in one hand.

"I'm not going anywhere without you," Remi said, taking her brother's empty hand like she was going to walk a child across the street to safety.

Roman's sadness bled through his overt anger. "If you want to go, just go. I don't need you."

Remi took the gun from him before she punched his arm, and though it was loud enough to cause an impressive thud, Roman didn't seem to mind. "Well, I need your annoying ass, so deal with it," she smiled at the end.

Her brother's face was unreadable. "So you're not leaving?"

"We're talking about it. But even if we do, we won't go without you. Kurt already knows that…he already knows that I won't leave you behind unless you don't _want_ to come with us."

"Great, the father figure I never wanted," Roman huffed.

"You can trust him," Remi reassured, commanding Roman's attention with her body language more than her tone. "I…I _trust_ him."

Roman's eyes widened sharply, and Kurt understood how significant Remi's confession must have been. "Okay. So let me hear your plan," the teen suggested.

"We don't really have one yet," Kurt admitted.

Roman laughed derisively, "So you have no plan, but you're definitely going to show up and rescue me and my sister? You're all words and no action." Directing his thoughts to Remi, he said, "Can't you see? He's telling you whatever you want to hear so—"

Kurt interrupted, "Look, you don't trust me, I get it. To be honest, I don't trust you either. You're probably going to run right back to Shepherd and tell her everything. But you matter to Remi. So you matter to me. When we figure stuff out, you won't be left behind. Leaving you would hurt her. And I told you…I never want to hurt her."

"Maybe I don't want to leave Shepherd," Roman countered.

"That will be your choice to make," Remi said. She authoritatively added, although her voice shook with a hint of concern, "For now, Roman, you can't tell Shepherd."

"You think I'm an idiot?" Roman asked. "If Shepherd finds out, your ass won't see the light of day for a year… _if_ you're lucky. And him, you know what will happen to him."

"I'm not afraid of her," Kurt grumbled.

"Then you're even dumber than you look."

"Fine. I'm not going to tell you what to do. The choice is yours," Remi said. "All I'm asking for is honesty. What are you going to report to her? I want to know what I'm facing."

"I'll tell her the truth," Roman said. "I saw you on your way to Miami. You picked up a homeless guy, cleaned him up, and paid him to go along as your cover, as instructed."

"Are you sure?" Remi asked.

Roman bobbed his head as little as he could and still convey his agreement.

"Thanks, man," Kurt said.

"Don't thank me," Roman answered. Turning to Remi, he added, "I hope you know what you're doing. You're going to have to live with the consequences of your actions, so I hope it's worth it."

"It is," Remi said, her eyes drilling in on Roman's while the two exchanged wordless thoughts.

They heard an announcement about the train's impending departure, and Roman stood. "I better go. Shepherd's expecting me back tonight."

"We'll talk when I get home."

"Sure," Roman answered unhappily.

Kurt held out the gun he'd taken, handing it to Roman with the barrel pointed at himself, and hoping like hell Roman wouldn't shoot him. He guessed the younger guy would either take it as a show of trust or as a pathetic mistake. Roman took the gun, engaged the safety, and tucked it in the back of his jeans before taking the other one from Remi and returning it to his boot. Roman was a wild card, far more unpredictable than Kurt was comfortable with, but he knew what the young man meant to Remi.

Of course, in the realm of potential mistakes made that day, trusting Roman seemed no less foolish than blatantly and angrily confessing his love for Remi.

The siblings didn't hug their goodbyes like Kurt and Sarah would have, but the bond between them was unmistakable. Roman slipped out the door and was gone. Remi leaned forward on the bunk and dropped her head in her hands. "You okay?" Kurt asked, sitting next to her, careful to give her a little space.

"I've been sloppy," she replied, as if that were her biggest problem. "Mistakes cost lives."

"I'm sorry, Remi," Kurt said sadly. "I never wanted to cause trouble for you."

"I had plenty of trouble long before you came along," she chuckled, likely trying to make him feel better, but failing. "And Roman was right about one thing…if Shepherd finds out, she will come after you."

"You're worth it. I meant what I said," Kurt replied, leaning a hand on the bed and turning to face her.

"Which thing?" she asked, stone-faced.

He couldn't tell if she truly didn't know, if she wanted him to confirm, or if she was giving him the chance to backpedal on his words.

"That wasn't the way I wanted to tell you, or the right time, but it's true. I love you," he stated as resolutely as he'd ever said anything. "I know it's crazy. I know it's soon. I know you probably don't believe me, but—"

"I believe you," she answered. "It is insane. And dangerous. And fast. I'm not sure if I really understand love…until recently I didn't really think I was capable of it in the way that most people are, but I know how I feel. I love you, too."

For a few seconds, all he could hear was his own heartbeat as he tried to comprehend, and then, finally, he hopefully asked, "Really?"

"I'm risking everything just to see you." She chuckled, "You think I'd risk all that for a good time?"

"Well," he bragged, "it is a _really_ good time."

She returned the smile, but it slipped away quickly.

"You worried about Roman?" Kurt asked.

It seemed to be difficult for her to admit, but she replied, "I'm worried about a lot of things."

"Well, some guy came to see me about a project in the Midwest…they're considering me for it."

"What sort of project?"

"I need to find out more. I'm meeting with him next week. But I wanted to talk to you first. If I can be sure the offer is real, and I can get him to bring you and Roman along, will you come?"

Remi's eyes moved like she was reading the situation, and after careful thought she nodded her head. "I need to get Roman out. This life, it's hard on him. We need to get away. If something happened to either of you…"

Kurt took her cheek in his hand and, as confidently as possible, said, "Hey…nothing is going to happen to me. If this training program doesn't work out, I'll talk to General Neal. He's a good man, he's looked out for me for a long time. He might be able to help."

"You can't tell him anything about me or Roman."

"I won't."

"You trust him?"

"Completely. Believe me, it won't be much longer until we'll all be far away from here, all four of us."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N—Happy Blindspot Day! Only a few more hours until the new episode! I can't thank you all enough for helping me survive this hiatus. I'm glad the new season is finally here, because I just can't wait any longer. Also, although I am entirely responsible for any and all mistakes, thanks to gypsyscarfwoman and Snapdragon83, who have proofed many, many chapters for me. I can post so much faster with proofreaders to catch some of the mistakes that I overlook time and again. Anyway, just a few more hours to go!**

* * *

 **Chapter 10**

After Roman was gone, Kurt and Remi continued their train ride south. Roman's appearance had dropped harsh reminders of reality in the middle of their stolen time together. Remi wondered if Kurt truly believed that nothing bad would happen to him, or if he was saying that to comfort her. Although initially he'd been the one to suggest leaving and volunteered to come up with a plan, she thought perhaps she was better suited to devise an escape. She was used to a world of subterfuge and secrecy, and she knew how to survive in the worst of circumstances. He was caring and kind and beyond handsome, and, in his own way, tough, but he was still the law-abiding boy scout beneath it all. Silently she vowed to come up with a plan of her own to get them all to safety.

After seeing Roman's panic and confusion, she realized how important it was to get him away from Shepherd and their life. She knew Roman needed help. It was strange, but she'd never fully considered such things before. She knew Kurt had helped her to wake up parts of herself that had been dormant for so long that she'd thought them expelled. Once he started to show her compassion, and she allowed herself to feel it, she began to see things differently. The changes Roman noted in her weren't all pleasant. At times she was happy and in love, but as the sleeping parts of her mind woke up, it caused the surfacing of many painful memories and feelings that she was completely ill-equipped to deal with. She was quicker to anger, but also more capable of dialing that rage back than Roman was. If anything, she was even better at her work during this time, throwing herself into each task and concentrating because work was the most familiar and comforting thing in her life. Besides him.

As she stared into his eyes, she noted a hint of watery redness around the edges. "Are you alright?" she asked.

"Yea," he scoffed, as if nothing were wrong. His chin dropped to his chest, in some way admitting the strong emotional swell he was feeling, and it made her tears begin to pool as well. This sort of empathy was wholly new for her. "I need answers," he said, frustration showing. "I need to know how we're going to get away. I'm…" he stopped, inhaling deeply. "I don't know. Sorry."

He caught his emotions and calmed them, and she kind of hated that. "You can tell me," she nodded.

"You're gonna crinkle your nose and roll your eyes," he joked, mimicking the reaction he predicted, "so forget it."

"I don't do that!" she countered, scandalized.

"You do!"

"No, I don't," she argued again, realizing that she was already in mid-eye roll. "Maybe I do."

He grinned even though he still looked a little sad. "It's okay. It's the prettiest eye roll I've ever seen."

She crinkled her nose, but couldn't help but smile back at him, and then once she realized she was crinkling, she started to laugh, and then he started to laugh at her amusement. Trying to muster a tone of consternation, she gently smacked his face and said, "You don't know me at all."

"Obviously not."

"Since I've gotten all of that rolling and crinkling out of the way…tell me what you were going to say."

She could tell he'd wished she'd forgotten. Staring more at her chin than her eyes, he confessed quickly, his words running together, "I feel like I can't take care of you. I can't protect you. And I know you don't _want_ me to take care of or protect you, and I know you don't think you need it, but I want to anyway." Pausing for a moment, he added more purposefully, "I wish I could make sure nothing bad was going to happen to you."

Normally she would have been irritated at best, furious at worst, but, oddly enough, it felt kind of…pleasant. She admitted, "I think I feel the same about you." Then she paused, waiting for him to balk at the idea of being protected and cared for, but he nodded.

Wanting a little space from the overwhelming emotions of the previous minutes, she said, "I don't know when I'll get away to see you again, so we better take advantage of this while we can." She reached for him, but didn't find one of the many acceptable expressions for this situation. Kurt looked hurt. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"I don't like that, not knowing when I'm going to see you. That's all." He very intentionally smiled and said, "But we're fixing that. It's only temporary. So you're right. We should enjoy what time we have."

She stood and went to the window, gazing out the rain-dotted glass before she closed the blinds. After checking the door again because she was terrified that someone was going to surprise them, she checked under the bunk and all around the room, mostly in spaces that were far too small to contain a human being. "Just making sure," she said with a nervous chuckle.

"Good thinking," he answered, his eyes fixed on her.

There wasn't a lot of space in their private room, so even when they were apart, they were still close. She took a long step until she was directly beside him, grabbed below his knees and tugged him to the end of the bed. She wiggled until she stood between his legs, beginning with a gentle kiss that avalanched into something much more. Her hands spreading across his chest, she pushed his jacket from his shoulders before she reached over his back and yanked up his shirt, pulling it roughly over his head.

"Take it easy, I'm fragile," he smirked up at her, hooking one belt loop on each side of her pants in his fingers and pulling her in. His hands crossed behind her back, surrounding her and making her feel safer than she knew she should.

While he devoted his time lavishing affection on the space of her chest that wasn't covered by her button down shirt, she felt his legs moving on either side of hers while he tried to kick off his shoes. She hooked under his arms and pulled him up, and for a moment he seemed a bit surprised by her strength. She'd planned something more interesting for him, something seductive and sensual, but found that her desire for him won out over any other plan.

What had begun as a meticulous undressing transformed into bits of clothing flinging all around the tiny room, bouncing off walls, while mouths and hands explored whatever parts of the other were in reach. This man always made her feel so _impatient_. She nodded to the bed and he obliged her request and took his place there. Grabbing the upper bunk with her fingers, she swung onto the bed with him, coming to rest between his body and the back of the sleeping space. He sat on his knees, clearly already anticipating that she'd climb onto him.

Instead she moved closer, sitting on the bed between his knees while her legs bent over his thighs, her heels coming to rest behind him. Seeing his momentary confusion, she latched her hands behind his back and kissed him, her tongue moving in the inviting way that always made him groan while she pulled him toward her.

He was so busy being kissed by her that he didn't realize that she was pulling him down until his elbows crashed into the mattress. He'd become so accustomed to her usual preferences that he lifted onto his palms to keep his weight off of her.

"No," she said.

"'No' what?" he asked, uncertainly.

"Come here," she rasped, her knees bending and grabbing at his hips, her feet on the backs of his thighs, and her arms around his torso. She tightened in every place where she held him, urging him closer.

He stopped again, his face extremely solemn, "You sure? I want you to—"

"I know," she interrupted, her fingers dancing up his spine until they skimmed over his neck. "I want you like this."

"If you change your mind—"

"You talk too much," she teased, nipping his chin before she pulled down on his body again.

"You are honestly the only person who has _ever_ said that to me."

He threaded their fingers, his hand cradling the back of hers, and brought her palm to his lips, dotting kisses along the softest spots of skin. His regulation clean-shaved face was growing shadowed as it typically did when their hours together passed and became days. He never bothered shaving on the weekends. The emerging stubble lead a path along her forearm. When his lips moved to the most sensitive spot under her wrist, she felt a chill, wondering when in the hell that had become such an erogenous zone. He continued along her arm until he reached the side of her elbow nearest her body, and she actually giggled and twisted away from the tickling sensation.

"I need to give you a lot more reasons to smile," he noted admiringly, taking her hand again and putting it against his chest.

She felt him wriggling off the side of the bed as his hand sightlessly groped around the floor for something. "What in the hell are you doing?"

"These are my new moves," he teased. "You're not impressed?" She laughed again, knowing that it happened too easily around him. He held up his wallet, trying to open it one handed since the other hand was beneath her back.

"Let me," she shook her head, taking the condom before she tossed the wallet back on the floor. "I'll bet you can find something better to do with those hands."

"You know you're right," he said before he dug the other one under her. Both of his hands trapped between her body and the mattress, he pressed firmly into her back, lifting her against his torso as he moved lower vertebrae by vertebrae until his grasp spread around the crease between her hip and leg.

She pushed him away enough to reach between them and find his sex, moving both hands over him in a slow tease that matched the leisurely pace of his touches. Continuing until she was absolutely certain he was about to rip the condom out of her hand to take responsibility for himself, she paused and rolled it on, feeling his grasp on her tighten in anticipation.

Sex between them had been somewhat athletic, typically more of a sport than an activity. She loved it, the excitement of him, their shared fitness, endurance, and enthusiasm. She had always thought that was the quality that made sex with him so fulfilling. As the two of them lie naked and entwined in a bunk and the train lumbered down the tracks, she realized she'd been wrong.

This was the least sport-like sex she'd ever experienced, slow but thorough, patient but devoted, deep and connected. Their eyes met when they could as their bodies found each other again and again, exchanging soft pants and moans that were almost a form of conversation. She allowed her defenses to relax, finding it easier every time, allowing him to move as he wished within her arms. And damn could he move.

She could feel the muscles in his back under her hands, the persistent shift of his hips between her thighs. His lips found her skin when he could, kissing her like he was revering her. Some part of her, part that used to exert so much more control, whispered that she should revile this tender lovemaking. She should dissuade him from this type of contact, ask for a good casual romp that didn't feel like it was invading her very spirit. But it felt good, too good to stop, and even though that programmed voice in her head tried to ruin it, she was becoming increasingly comfortable being so _connected._ And sex like this wasn't just acceptable or tolerable…it was fantastic. The voice had more to say, but Remi refused to hear it, rejecting thought and reason in favor of being lost in the experience.

He moved his palm to the small of her back and pushed up, tilting her pelvis so he could put more pressure in the right places. As if this particular round needed something to make it better.

Her tipping point approached furiously and refused to be ignored, but the moment her eyes snapped shut, she heard his voice, struggling for control, "Remi."

She didn't want to open her eyes, but she reacted to him saying her name, and when she looked, he was studying her experience of pleasure. She could see the struggle to keep his eyes open, to watch every moment of her orgasm as it swelled and possessed her. He came with her so very fast and hard, such a contrast to what had been so languid and sweet. Instead of an abrupt halt, she felt him move within her a few more times, eking out every last throb and flutter of her climax until an overwhelmed cry came from her to tell him she'd had enough.

"You okay?" he asked, shifting his weight to the side, his fingers brushing the hair back from her face.

She hummed, her needs replete, hiding her face against his neck. Yea, once in a while, sex like this would work for her just fine, although it didn't change her fondness for their more vigorous activities. Hopefully there would be plenty of time for both, some day.

"Be back," he said, pulling himself regretfully out of bed to dispose of the condom.

She felt abnormally irritated with his need to move away, and almost told him they didn't need the condoms. She had a birth control implant over a year ago, the most effective one available, and only insisted on the condoms for their various other protections. The sterner part of her brain hushed her. She was only eighteen, and, by her own admission, a screwed up mess of a human being. There would be no mistakes in this department.

But he returned quickly enough, picking her up and flopping himself on the bed with her on top of him, wrapping the blanket over her back and holding her close.

They didn't talk or sleep, lounging peacefully and listening to the sounds of the train as it stopped, passengers came and went, and then continued on. After a little while, Remi said, "So tell me more about this offer you got, the one in the Midwest."

"Some kind of training program. Sounds like Special Ops. I'm really not sure. Rensing told me that maybe they could move Sarah out there with me. I'm not sure if I'm interested, but if I agree to sell a few more years of service or work off the extra expense, maybe they'd bring you and Roman out, too. My time is all I really have to offer them at this point."

She shook her head against him, "I don't want you to sell more years. We'll find another way."

"Just temporary. Maybe a year or two extra would be enough. I'll talk to him."

"Don't agree to anything until he gives you more information. Sounds weird."

"It is weird. Rensing's a pretty weird guy, though. But it's not like we can be picky right now."

"Rensing?" she confirmed as she thought.

"Yea. Colonel Rensing. You know him?"

"Nope. I don't think so. But that name sounds familiar," she noted. After a few minutes of searching her memories, she said, "I remember…that was one of my—"

She stopped abruptly, not wanting to ruin the moment by highlighting her checkered past. "One of your what?" he insisted. "Whatever it is, you can tell me."

She shook her head, but replied, "It was an alias I used a few times. Samantha Rensing."

"You forgot your own alias?" he joked.

Feeling suddenly embarrassed, she admitted, "I've had a lot of them over the years."

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"It's not a very common name," she added, still thinking about it. "I haven't used that alias since…"

She bolted up, actually startling him enough that he followed her into a seated position. "What is it?" he asked.

"Distinguishing features?"

"Of Rensing?"

"Yes," she said impatiently. "Anything you noticed?"

"Uh…really tall. Thin."

"Anything else? Anything that stuck out?"

"Nothing I can think of. I mean, he was really strange but…" Kurt paused, then added, "I guess…he had creepy eyes. Kind of silvery."

"Dammit," she blurted out, feeling her chest tighten and her vision begin to tunnel.

She took centering breaths, relying on learned meditations to restrain all of those pesky emotions, shutting down her heart and becoming a strictly thinking being. She could handle this. After a moment she realized Kurt was saying her name, a look of complete befuddlement and concern on his face. "Talk to me, Remi," he pleaded.

He saw her cold expression and appeared even more alarmed. She felt her façade cracking again. This love thing was really not good for business. Softening a little, she said, "You can't go back to the academy."

"That's fine," he smiled victoriously. "I'll go to Miami with you before I go back."

"No," she shook her head, took firm hold of his forearms, and said, "I need you to listen very carefully. You cannot go back. Ever. I'll hide you somewhere safe until I can join you."

"Would you tell me what's going on?"

"I used that name for two jobs I did with Frank Doyle. He's Shepherd's friend. And my ex."

"The one who hurt you, who sold you for information? I'll kill him," he said, more out of anger and frustration than an actual declaration of intent to harm.

"You need to hide. If he's involved, Shepherd knows exactly what's going on. She sent him to get rid of you. She was probably testing Roman, too."

"He can't just get rid of me," Kurt scoffed.

"He _can_ get rid of you. And he won't even bat an eye. There is no one more capable of making a completely cold decision than him. Trust me. That's why he's offering you this program. He's going to wipe your name from the records under the guise that you're being recruited for off-book ops. He'll take you somewhere, and you will disappear."

"General Neal would not let him do that. He would at least warn me."

"Neal probably doesn't know his plans. I'm sure we have something on him. We have so many contacts in the military and government. You'd be surprised how many people have skeletons…and how many of those skeletons we know about."

"What are we gonna do?"

"You can ride with me to Miami. This isn't a very dangerous job, so you should be alright. Just do exactly as I say."

"Wait a minute…I'm hardly a civilian. I can hold my own in a fight," he said with some offense.

"Do you want to come to Miami or not?"

"Yea."

"When we get back, I'll put you somewhere safe. I'll go get Sarah and bring her to you."

"Wait, wait. I'm not just going to walk away. This Doyle guy…he needs to pay for what he did, for hurting you like that. And we both know that if you didn't get away, it would have been a lot worse."

"You don't know what you're saying."

"I know what he did to you, and that's enough. How many other people has he hurt? How many more will he hurt if he's not stopped?"

"You don't understand what he's really capable of. You don't know him."

"But you do. And together, we'll take this bastard down."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

When Kurt woke on the train a few hours later, Remi wasn't beside him. He didn't think he'd heard the train stop, because typically he woke whenever it did, but it was possible that he'd slept through one. Finding a reading light on the wall near his head, he turned it on, seeing Remi's clothes still on the floor, and he doubted she would have left without them. Besides, she had been so concerned about making sure he was safe that he knew she wouldn't leave him there alone. He stood, pulling on his shorts because he certainly didn't feel like fighting someone naked.

He heard a repetitive sound that he couldn't place, and looked onto the upper bunk. In the far corner, he saw Remi's back, but little else of her. He climbed up with her, turning on the light on the upper bunk and realizing that she was curled up in a ball, seated upright, facing the back corner. She was rocking ever so slightly, sort of like Roman had when he had become agitated.

"You okay?" he whispered, noting that she didn't react at all to his words.

Coming carefully closer, trying not to startle her, he put a hand on the middle of her back below her neck and started to speak. He never got a chance to say anything more. She whirled around so quickly that he swore he never even saw her move, her hand catching his and shoving him back, nearly propelling him off the bunk and onto the floor. Her eyes were devoid of emotion, her lips in one resolute line. As soon as she realized what was going on, he could see the moment of recognition, like the ice melted and she was free again, and she grabbed onto him so he wouldn't fall.

Once he realized he wasn't going to tumble to the ground, he looked at her face and saw fat streaks on her cheeks left behind by a deluge of tears. Using the back of her forearm, she wiped away the dampness as she asked, "Are you okay? I'm so sorry."

"I'm fine," he answered, shaking his head to dismiss her concerns. "Completely fine. Are you okay?"

"Yes," she replied.

"Is this because of me or something I did? Because of earlier?"

"It's not you. Not at all. I should have warned you. Sometimes I have dreams. Usually I don't seem to have them when… … when I've been with you. I think Roman coming here, and _Frank_ being back in the picture kind of raised my level of concern."

She began to shiver, and he couldn't tell if it was from a physical or emotional chill.

"He is not back in the picture. Not really," Kurt said, pulling the blanket up from the lower bunk and slinging it over her shoulders.

She half-smiled, acknowledging his thoughtfulness.

"He's around, but he will not be able to get close to you. Right now, you know he's still out there. When we're done with him, you'll _know_ he won't ever bother you again," Kurt said.

"I think I'm more disturbed that he went to find you," she confessed. "I brought him right to your door, put you in danger. It's my fault."

"It's not your fault. This just proves that you and I need to stick close. I'll watch your back. You watch mine. I need to go back to the academy to talk to General Neal, explain to him why I need to take a leave, see if he can help. Then I can be by your side and—"

Remi interrupted with her actions, scooting close to him and resting her head on his shoulder. She fell asleep again rather quickly, and he sat propped in the corner, his arm around her shoulder as he held her.

She was so strong and self-reliant, and he wondered if her tears emerged when she slept because she refused to allow them to fall at any other time. He recalled their conversation from earlier, especially when she said that Roman needed help, and Kurt began to realize Remi probably needed help as well, far more than what he had initially thought. The first priority was getting her out of Shepherd's weird gang and somewhere much safer, with Doyle behind bars. Once she was safe, maybe there was someone out there who could help her and Roman deal with the past. Although he'd underestimated the toll her life had taken on her, it only made him more resolved.

It felt a little hypocritical to even think about counseling, since he'd railed so thoroughly against shrinks and virtually any and every one who'd tried to help him deal with Taylor's disappearance, but he wasn't sure what else to do for her. He could love Remi, devote himself to her, but that probably wouldn't help her deal with the buried pain that haunted her sleep.

* * *

Remi seemed to feel much better in the morning. He was lying in the bunk, still trying to sleep, while she pulled his pants up to his calves. She reached for his hands and dragged him upright until he stood, and he offered a fake whine for effect. "We should take a cruise, or find a beach. Stretch out in the sun…"

"You want to go on vacation and stretch out? You're a wild man," she teased, pulling his pants up to his hips and zipping them.

Watching her hands, he teased, "You're dressing me already? Is this practice for when I'm too old to do this for myself?"

Her eyes widened a little and he suddenly realized the implication he'd made.

He took his shirt from her hands and put it on, and saw that she was studying him with a less than approving look.

"What?" he asked, hands moving out to the side. "Something on my shirt?"

"We need to change those clothes."

"What's wrong with my clothes?" he asked.

"You're just…you know."

He tilted his head, leaning forward slightly. "I'm what?"

"Well, you look like…a _cop_ ," she answered, practically spitting the last word.

"What?" he scoffed, then laughed. "Seriously?"

"Yea," she said. "Maybe an undercover one, but still a cop. The offer stands. I can drop you off somewhere safe—"

"Not going to happen," he interjected.

"I figured. But if you want to come, we're going to have to mess you up a little."

"I love how you mess me up," he flirted, watching her slow grin appear before she flushed slightly.

"This guy we're meeting today," she said, readdressing her focus, "he's harmless. But he has some useful skills, so we need to be on the lookout for other people who might be interested in using him. Make sure no one gets the drop on us, keep our eyes out for any of Shepherd or Doyle's people. We need to be ready for anything. Do you have a gun?"

"What?" he asked. "Not on me. I have my service piece but—"

"I'll procure you one," she replied matter-of-factly.

"We really need guns?"

"We need weapons, Kurt," she answered solemnly. "If you want to do this, you want to try to stand up to Doyle and Shepherd…this isn't the small time anymore. This isn't training missions and playing soldier in the woods. This is real. People are going to get hurt, possibly killed. I need to know that you understand that."

"I do," he awkwardly admitted.

"It's okay if you want to sit this out. I can handle it. We can move you and Sarah somewhere secure and—"

"No," he said, raising his voice. "We do this together. I'm not going to sit on the sidelines and hope you're okay, so let's settle that right now. Quit asking."

"Okay," she answered, appearing to be pleased with his decisiveness.

"But I think you owe me some answers about Shepherd, about what's going on."

"I know," she agreed. "Shepherd and Doyle are part of a network of militia groups. They feel the government and the military are corrupt. They use a variety of methods to control people in key positions…usually secrets, blackmail. But their ultimate goal…is complete change. Destruction of the government and society and—"

"Wait," Kurt said, taking a moment of quiet to sort through the information. "Are you serious?"

She nodded. "I am trusting you not to tell a soul."

"I won't, I just…I figured it was drugs or illegal weapons or something."

"There's that, too," she admitted. "They have to fund and arm their operations somehow."

"Damn," he said, clearly still stunned.

"This is what I've been trying to tell you, Kurt," Remi said, putting her hands on his upper arms to make sure she had his attention. "These people are serious. They will do whatever they need to do."

"Then so will we," he replied, his mind whirling at just the idea of what her life had been like. No wonder she and Roman were so damaged.

She seemed satisfied, then paused, her forehead wrinkling in thought. "There's something else," she said. After he nodded, she continued, "I've been involved with these people. I've done things, bad things."

"You were a kid when they indoctrinated you and—"

"I don't need excuses for my behavior," she replied coolly. "But you should know…if I am ever arrested and tried, I will probably go to prison for a very, very long time."

"Is that who you still want to be?" he asked a bit worriedly.

"No," she replied after adequate thought. "It isn't. But it doesn't change what's already happened. And it doesn't change how dangerous it is for you to help me."

"I'm going with you. And as far as I'm concerned, what happened in the past is the past. We can start a new life, leave all this behind. What happened to you…the way you were raised…it isn't an excuse, it's context. You were never given a chance to be anything or anyone else. You have that chance now. You can choose who you want to be."

* * *

Remi took him to a thrift store and bought him different clothes that looked more worn than his own. He seldom wore anything besides uniforms and workout gear. He sported a hat and sunglasses to hide his face, but the weather in Miami was a far cry from home, and just taking a walk in the tropical air of southern Florida made him sweat.

As they walked, he wondered how often she went to bed in a different part of the country from where she'd woken up. She certainly seemed adept at this. In fact, as far as he could tell, she looked like a perfectly ordinary person taking a walk on a Saturday evening. She took his hand, occasionally pretending to glance inside a shop window or pause to look at a cute puppy out for a walk.

Their travels brought them to a storage warehouse, and she entered like she'd been there a hundred times before, without having to search for security codes or find her way through the halls. She seemed to know exactly where she was going. Locating the precise unit with ease, she already had the key in hand. She rolled up the door and gestured for him to enter. After they were both inside, she closed the door and pulled the string on the single bare lightbulb hanging in the middle of the room.

The inside of the unit was full of ordinary looking furniture, a sofa, dresser, wardrobe, and piano. There were a few boxes around, many partially open, and inside some he saw books or dishes. This appeared to be a perfectly ordinary storage unit.

She went to the upright piano, opened the top, and lifted a rack from the compartment where the strings should have been. Several weapons hung there, ranging from very small handguns to larger high caliber weapons, and even various knives. She took two handguns from the rack, sliding a combination lock to remove them. He wondered how she knew all of this so easily, but she didn't appear to be in the mood to share secrets.

"You know how to use this, right?" she asked, handing him a gun.

"You know about my training, don't you?"

She watched, waiting while he slid out the clip and realized he didn't have any ammunition loaded, but she approved of his ability to handle it.

"You shouldn't need that," she added, securing the rack back in its original spot and stepping behind the wardrobe, "but just in case, it's always better to have protection."

At the back of the wardrobe, she lifted a fake panel, reaching inside for ammunition and tossing four clips, one at a time, to him. Four clips seemed like a lot of ammo to carry 'just in case,' but he had to accept that he was in her world now. From the false bottom of a box, she grabbed stacks of bills, each carefully wrapped, and tossed them in a backpack.

Standing right in front of him, she waited while he slid a full clip into the gun and stashed the other clips on his person. She dropped to one knee, lifted one of his pant legs, and secured a knife with a nylon belt. Once she also put her weaponry into place, she looked at herself in a full length mirror inside the wardrobe door, and appeared satisfied that everything was properly concealed.

"If there's trouble and we're separated," she said, like a commander giving orders, "you return here. The front door code is 4-3-5-2-2. Here is a copy of the key. You wait here for two hours. If I don't return in that time, go back home, get your sister, and disappear."

"I'm not going without you."

"If I don't get back here in two hours…there is no more me. Understood?"

"Yea," he muttered unhappily.

"What's the code?"

"4-3-5-2-2," he immediately responded, and she smiled proudly. "Is this how you always prep for a not-so-dangerous mission?"

"No. This kid we're meeting is more annoying than dangerous. I'm more concerned about running into Shepherd or her people on the way. She knows about this meet." Then, as if she remembered something, she asked, "You aren't a jealous kind of guy, are you?"

"Uh," Kurt began, wondering what in the hell he was getting into. "Not really. Depends, I guess. I'm not interested in sharing, if that's what you mean."

She chuckled, "No. Not sharing. But this guy likes to flirt, and he's really persistent. So be ready."

"Well, I'm pretty sure I'll have to get used to a lot of guys flirting with you," he admired.

"But he won't just flirt with _me_ ," she warned. "Let's go."

* * *

Remi's missions were almost always solo, not that she minded having Kurt along, but it was different. At least it was another set of eyes. In truth, she could handle Gord Enver and his pathetic excuse for a posse with both hands tied behind her back, but mostly she wanted to see how Kurt would handle a mission, and this one seemed a safe way to test him. He was handling it pretty well, so far.

She thought he looked a little more on edge than a really seasoned operative would, but overall, he wasn't terribly conspicuous. Remi doubted that Shepherd or Doyle would move on them here, but they knew she understood the workings of their organizations, so it was possible that they'd change tactics to catch her off guard. Occasionally, the realization that she might betray Shepherd, the only "mother" she'd really known, would come to mind. She thought it would be best to try to convince Kurt that the four of them should all go on the run, forget about Doyle and Shepherd, and choose safety over justice or revenge.

By the time they arrived at the meet, it was after dark, the nightlife just beginning to rise. It was loud and bright, easy to be distracted or surprised, so in a lot of ways, this was the perfect test for Kurt. Surprisingly, he seemed even more at ease once the situation became more confusing, and she liked that about him. She already knew that if she wasn't in love with him and ready to leave this life behind, she'd try to recruit him. Shepherd would likely be quite pleased with his abilities, although she'd probably never allow them to see each other.

Remi strolled past a line that was waiting at the club. At the door, there were two very large bouncers. Remi stepped behind the one who seemed to recognize her, her body partially hidden by the door and the bouncer. The man took out a small flashlight and nodded at Remi. She turned to the side, lifted her shirt near her hip a few inches, and showed the bouncer the proper tattoo. He compared it to a printout, then nodded for her to enter. Reaching past him, she grabbed Kurt's hand and said, "He's with me," pulling him between the glowering guards.

She felt Kurt staring at her, all of his previous questions about the tattoos bubbling inside his head. Perhaps they should have talked about them before. Still, he was able to keep his cool and his focus when he needed to.

Inside, the room was alive with moving bodies crammed onto the floor, bobbing like a single organism. She walked around the edge near the wall, Kurt's hand in hers. She wondered, fleetingly, what it was like to be one of the people who came to actually dance, drink and flirt. Maybe one day she and Kurt could come to a place like this, holding each other tight, an island in the center of chaos.

In some ways, they already were an island in the center of chaos, and had been since they'd started seeing each other.

But they weren't here to dance, so there was little reason to think about that. She went through a door hidden behind massive sound equipment and went up the narrow wooden stairs. They emerged in a large, mostly-empty attic, the bare floorboards beneath their feet thumping from the music below. "How is it possible that you look better every single time I see you, Remi?" a voice came from on top of a partial stage that had been stored there.

From the look on Kurt's face, she could tell this guy wasn't what he'd been expecting.

"Always a pleasure, Enver," Remi dryly said. "You have what I need?"

"Slow down," he said, hopping down from the stage, trying to look cool, but losing his footing a bit.

Remi knew he was a tool, but no one hacked faster and harder than Gord Enver, and they knew enough about him to put him away for the rest of his life, so she trusted him to keep his mouth shut.

"Who's the new guy?" Gord asked, standing in front of Kurt and admiring him. "Trying to get me to lower my price?"

"You deal with me," Remi said, grabbing the kid by the ear and bringing him back in front of her. "You don't see anyone else."

"He's pretty damn hard not to see."

"Do you have what I need or not?"

"God, I love a driven woman. I think it's possible you and your compadres have underestimated my value…who else could give you all of this—"

Crossing her arms, Remi interrupted, "Get to the point."

"I think it comes down to a supply and demand sort of economics thing. I have a service that no one else can offer at the same level of quality, some would consider it an invaluable service—"

"Name your price," she affirmed. "As long as it's under eleven."

"Eleven?" Gord scoffed, shaking his head, "I thought we agreed on twelve."

"We did…" Remi replied, "until you decided to try to dick me around."

"Fine. Twelve."

"Eleven. But if you want to negotiate further, we can make it ten."

"No! Fine. I—I—I was just kidding anyway. It's no problem."

Remi noticed that Kurt looked at her, his eyes squinting slightly as his brow furrowed. For the most part, he'd been looking around the room, doing a great job of appearing bored and impatient, as she'd requested. She casually took a side step, like she was considering her next move, but really she wanted to see Kurt better. Then she noticed that he had his hand across his stomach, and was tapping his fingers in a pattern. First he'd tap one finger higher, next he'd lower his hand and tap two fingers, and then he'd repeat the sequence. It definitely looked like he was signaling to her about other possible parties approaching, but she wasn't sure if he was acting intentionally.

Gord was rambling, and Remi noticed when Kurt put all five fingers on his stomach and counted down five-four-three-two-one, and she spun around, finding two armed guards wearing ski masks behind her. They weren't well-trained at all, and she disarmed one with a single hand. When she looked to her right, Kurt was there. He had Gord's head under his arm in a headlock, and, while keeping the hacker restrained, he disarmed a second gunman. She still had her backpack on her shoulder, completely undisturbed. The humiliated attackers ran, and Remi didn't care to chase them. She was there for Enver and the information he had.

Once everyone was taken care of, Remi turned and looked at Kurt. He was so incredibly attractive to her in that moment. This wasn't the time for those sorts of thoughts. For some reason, she'd dismissed his training, but she was honestly impressed. It wasn't as if they'd developed any agreement on codes or practices, but they already communicated so well when things got hairy. Kurt tried to appear like this was all perfectly ordinary, but she saw the proud expression on his face before he asked, "You okay?"

"Yup. You?"

He nodded, and Gord argued, "In case you didn't notice…still trapped here."

"Deal with it," Remi said, nodding at Kurt, who seemed to understand that she wanted him to look for weapons. Kurt found one gun on Gord, but he pointed it at the ground and squeezed the trigger, unleashing a popping sound and a pellet.

"Is that a BB gun?" Remi angrily questioned.

"Looks real, doesn't it?" Gord asked, smiling nervously at Weller.

"Nope," Kurt instantly replied. "It looks like a damn toy."

Remi approached and immediately pinched a nerve in Gord's neck and watched him drop to his knees. "What the hell was the deal with that little ambush?"

"A joke!" Enver insisted, unbelievably. "Just a joke between friends. Hahaha! Don't you get it?"

"Did you think it was funny?" Remi asked Kurt.

He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head obstinately. "No. I didn't think it was funny."

"You didn't amuse my partner here," she said, "and you didn't amuse me. So no…not funny. The only funny part…was that you thought that pathetic group of friends of yours could get a drop on me and you could try to intimidate me into paying you more. Huge mistake."

"A misunderstanding. You know this was really a fantastic life lesson for me…I've learned a lot here today. Maybe I could give you a discount?"

"Do we accept coupons?" Kurt asked Remi.

"I don't think we do," she replied.

"Come on, Remi, we're all friends here," Enver pleaded.

"We are not friends," she responded. "And my partner was right, we don't take coupons, but I do occasionally accept favors."

"Sure," Gord too enthusiastically agreed. "What do you want?"

"First things first…where's the intel I already asked for?"

"Over there, on the stage. Third board from the front is loose."

Kurt jumped up while Remi kept a hold on Gord. He found a very thick sealed folder which he tossed to Remi. She looked inside and nodded. She let go and took three steps back, "This stunt today is gonna cost you."

"I figured that was coming," Gord complained. Then, somewhat opportunistically, he said, "There are _other_ favors I could offer you and your burly friend here."

"What have I told you about that?" Remi sneered.

Gord sighed and looked away, seeing that she wasn't going to continue until he answered. He mumbled, "Not even if hell froze over, pigs could fly, and I was the last person in the universe."

She opened her backpack, tossing a few stacks of money at him. "The rest is yours if you get me some more intel. And it's gonna be hard to find."

"What do you need?" Gord asked, appearing pleased that his skills were recognized.

"This one is tough," she began, giving him details about Frank Doyle so Enver could research.

"It's not gonna be a problem. It'll take time, but—"

"You have two days."

"That's impossible," he argued.

"Then the rest of the money is mine," she countered.

Enver shook his head, then bragged, "Well, if it _is_ possible, I'm the guy who could do it. We meet here?"

"I'm not coming back again. You come to me. I'll send you the details. I'm the only contact you speak with. Are we clear?"

"Of course."

Remi took long, certain steps toward the stairs as Kurt followed.

She paused once more, turning back and adding, "If you bring your friends to a meeting with me again, I will make sure—"

"I get it," Gord interrupted. "No more jokes…funny or otherwise."

Once they were outside, Kurt beamed at her and said, "Not too bad, for our first job together."

She took his hand as they walked onto the still vibrant streets. "Not bad at all," she replied.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Remi and Kurt planned to part ways Sunday night upon their return from Miami, although neither of them wanted to split. Kurt argued that it wasn't safe for her to go back to Shepherd, and she argued that it wasn't safe for him to go back to the academy, but they had little choice. Kurt needed to talk to General Neal and try to get a leave of absence. He also hoped Neal could offer much needed advice and assistance. Remi had to report in to Shepherd and figure out how much Roman had decided to tell her about her relationship with Kurt.

He had called General Neal at home that weekend, asking if they could arrange a private meeting Sunday night, and the General had agreed. Remi told Kurt she'd call after she spoke to Shepherd and Roman so they could figure out their next move.

Kurt marched into the stately administration building at nearly ten that night, grateful that the General would meet him when there would be no one else around. The halls echoed even more than normal with each step, and Kurt hoped that by the time he left Neal's office, he'd have a real plan, and they could finally make substantial progress. Although the hall lights weren't on, the lamps outside provided a little illumination through the tall, glass-pane windows, and Kurt could see the warm glow coming from Neal's office, the door left open for him.

Rapping the back of his knuckle on the wood, Kurt waited for Neal to signal him to enter. The General nodded at Kurt, lacking the enthusiasm he typically displayed when they met in an unofficial setting. "Come in, Weller," he stiffly offered.

"Thank you for agreeing to see me at this hour, sir," Kurt said, sitting in the chair near the General when invited.

"What's the emergency?"

"Well, sir, I've gotten myself mixed up in something. I can't go into all of the details, but I'm seeing a woman, someone who's become…important to me. She needs my help."

"What is it you want from me?"

"Is it possible for me to get a leave of absence or something similar to that, sir?"

"A leave? You and some girl were reckless and got yourselves into a situation and you expect—"

"It's not like that," Kurt shook his head. "She's involved with some people…bad people. I need to help her and her brother. I thought maybe you could point me in the right direction."

As it became clear that Neal wasn't in his usual helpful mood, Kurt decided not to divulge any more, but rather to concentrate on getting approval for a leave.

"Talk to Colonel Rensing, son," Neal offered. "Maybe he can help you if you agree to go with him and participate in the program he mentioned to you."

"If I can be blunt, sir, I don't trust him," Kurt said. "Something's not right."

"I've always wanted to see you succeed. You're a good man." General Neal looked sorrowfully at Weller, focusing his stare for a moment before he said, "I really am sorry, Kurt."

"Sorry, sir?"

An eerily familiar voice came from behind him as Rensing, who Kurt now knew was Frank Doyle, asked, "You don't trust me?"

Before Kurt could even spin around, he felt a sharp crack at the back of his head, one that he heard, saw, and felt the whole way through his brain.

* * *

Remi typically didn't lose sleep over a little thing like a lie. Lies were the least of her sins as a soldier in Shepherd's militia. So why did lying to Kurt make her feel so very guilty? She'd felt a little suspicious of the General, uncertain why he would allow Doyle access to one of the cadets in his academy. It just bugged her. But she knew if she'd insisted on staying, Kurt would have fought her on it. She could make an excuse, delay Shepherd a little longer, and stay long enough to make sure Kurt's meeting went as planned.

She knew he was probably a little insulted that she felt like he needed her protection. It wasn't that he wasn't capable, because she knew now that he was, but she also realized he didn't know Frank and Shepherd like she did. She'd once been desensitized to their methods, and that, coupled with the programming she'd endured as a small child, enabled her to work with people like them. Since she'd started opening herself up, she was beginning to realize just how horrific their actions were.

Kurt really didn't understand these people, and the lengths they'd go to in order to keep secrets, and if she'd led Frank Doyle right to Kurt, she was sure as hell going to make sure he didn't hurt the man she loved. _If something happened to Kurt_ …Remi began to think, and then expelled the thought from her mind because it was going to destroy her focus.

Concentrating on the windows in Neal's office, she watched for changes in the light and shadows since she couldn't really see much else. She noted movement when Kurt arrived, nothing too sudden or erratic, and then, after just a few short minutes, some of the shadows moved too quickly, and from that alone, she was certain her suspicions were correct.

The thing she liked least about this building was the number of potential exits. The simplest thing to do would be to sneak up on Frank outside, but she wasn't sure which door he'd use to leave. She felt relatively certain that he'd take Kurt alive so they could question him. Of course there was always the possibility that they wanted Weller out of the picture right away, and they intended to kill him. Doyle had taken part of Remi's very self the day he'd betrayed her, and she wasn't about to let him take Kurt from her as well.

Acting on instinct, or perhaps impulse, she took the route that she was certain was closest to Neal's office. She knew this was, by far, her least well-prepared for and planned mission ever. Taking the stairs two and three at a time, she arrived at the top of the steps on the correct floor and carefully listened through the open fire door. From the conversation, it sounded like Doyle was still with General Neal. She didn't hear Kurt's voice, and tried not to panic over that fact yet.

At the right time, she pushed the door open just a bit more, enough to get a line of sight, and then she saw them. Doyle and Neal were lugging Kurt down the hall, holding him under his arms. Kurt's feet dragged behind him, his body hanging limply. She stepped out into the hall, careful not to make a sound when the door closed, and crept quickly along the shadows to catch up.

Suddenly, like he could sense her, Doyle dropped Kurt's arm and turned back to face Remi. Neal balked when Doyle left him holding the weight of the unconscious young man alone, trying to keep him up so he wouldn't be hurt further. Neal's concern indicated that Kurt was probably still alive.

Doyle paused, tilting his head and brushing unseen dirt off his hands, like carrying Weller had somehow been a filthy job. That act stabbed pain through her heart that she immediately stifled. "Hello, darling," he said, the term sickeningly condescending and creepy. "What a… _surprise_ …to see you here."

"He's not worth it, Frank," she said, her gun aimed at his head. "He's not going to get in our way."

"You should lower that gun, little girl," he taunted.

Smiling bitterly, Remi replied, "I'll be happy to…as soon as you and your friend leave Weller, and walk right out of here."

"I'm not going to do that," Doyle replied. "This," he began, roughly kicking Kurt's side with his boot, "has become a distraction. And you know how important you are to us. Let me help you get back on track."

"I'm giving you a chance to walk away," Remi said.

She watched while Doyle weighed the options, trying to figure out what she really meant, and if she had other motivations. He began, speaking in that familiar tone that made her want to vomit, "I know your feelings were hurt when I had to make some hard choices and—"

"My _feelings_ were hurt?" she scoffed. "You think that's what this is about?"

"I do. I didn't realize how immature you really were. Apparently still are."

"Immature?" she asked. "How old was I, sixteen maybe, the first time that…" Remi started to growl unhappily, pretending to be unhinged, and eager to kill the man known as Rensing. "I'm going to end you," she threatened.

Remi began behaving erratically, screaming that Doyle had ruined her life. Acting as if she were on the verge of a complete nervous breakdown, she aimed her gun at the men, her hand shaking unsteadily. Her voice panicky, she told Doyle, "I'm tired of these games. I'm tired of being used. You don't deserve to live." Turning her weapon on Neal, she added, "Get the hell out of here, before I decide to kill you, too."

Neal hurried down the hall, never turning his back on her until he fled into the night.

The moment he was out of sight, Remi, completely poised, tucked her weapon away. "Sorry about that," she calmly told Doyle, even though she was every bit as full of rage and sadness as she'd pretended to be.

Doyle laughed, "I should have known you were too tough for that. Pretty good act. See…I've always known there was something special about you. You're one of the best we have."

"I need time," she told him. Since she knew Doyle might not believe her, she kicked at Kurt's leg, feeling guilty but knowing it was better for Doyle to believe she didn't care about Weller.

"Time to do what?"

"I'm working him. Someone from the NSA is trying to recruit him."

"Who?" Doyle suspiciously asked.

"Matthews...at least I think that was his name," she said, grateful that she'd heard Shepherd mention the man before. "Look, we need to think long term here. Weller is squeaky clean, he won't have any problem passing the vetting process. We don't have anyone at the NSA. Shepherd has always said we need someone there. He approached me! He thinks he has feelings for me. I can use that. I can control him."

"I really am proud of you," Frank said, and Remi choked the bile from her throat. "I know you didn't understand what I did or why, but I knew you could survive. One day, you'll thank me."

"Thank you?"

"For showing you how strong you really are."

Remi argued with herself, one half of her begging not to throw this chance away while the other half thought it would be so satisfying to kill the man on the spot. If she killed him now, she'd probably never see Roman again. She had to take down Doyle and Shepherd both after Roman was safe. It was hard, though, swallowing that rage. Shepherd took credit for Remi's strength, as did Doyle, and both of them had done so much to hurt her. She wasn't strong because of them, she was strong in spite of them.

Frank reached out, his narrow fingers tilting her chin, "I knew from the very first time we met—"

She jerked her cheek away. She wouldn't destroy her chance for freedom, maybe even the opportunity to atone for some of the things she'd done, but she didn't have to pretend to like Doyle to do that. "I still hate you," she calmly said. "I will never forgive you for what you did. But nothing matters as much as our mission. Back off…give me some time to see if I can turn this guy or not. If I can…it will be a game changer."

"And if you can't?"

"Then he's dead," she shrugged disinterestedly.

"You want me to just walk away?"

She took a knife and slashed her arm, dropping spots of blood on the floor. "I'll tell him I shot you, grazed your leg. If I stage a rescue, Weller will trust me even more. He'll believe I turned on my own people."

"Shepherd thinks you've lost your way—"

"I have to keep my cover. Go back and tell Shepherd that I think Weller is our road into the NSA. I'll check in with her in a day or two. I have to stay here…play the part of the concerned girlfriend. He was attacked, he's vulnerable. I'll have him doing whatever I want within a week," she said, watching when Kurt started to stir. "Get the hell out of here before he wakes up."

Remi doubted Shepherd would believe any of this, but for now all that mattered was that she could get Kurt away from Doyle to somewhere safe. She'd worry about the next step when the most immediate threat was neutralized. She couldn't leave Kurt now, not when he was injured.

Doyle studied her, searching for signs of a lie, and she couldn't figure out whether or not he believed her. Taking a step back, but keeping his eyes on her, he said, "If you're lying, I will kill him personally. It will be slow. It will be painful. And you will watch him until he takes his very last breath. His blood will be on your hands."

Laughing dismissively, she replied, "If he won't help us…I'll kill him myself."

Doyle stepped back as Kurt began to move. "For your sake, I hope you know what you're doing." For a few seconds of eternity, Doyle thought, and Remi waited. "You have two days to come back to the farm. And bring Weller. You want to prove you can control him? Show us."

A moment later, Frank was gone, at least for the time being.

Remi knelt beside Kurt, trying to get a look at his eyes to see if he could focus yet. "Kurt, are you okay?" she asked nervously, but he still wasn't fully conscious.

She lifted his arm, pulling it around her shoulder and struggling to stand. She dragged him over to the wall, propping his back up so he was seated as she tried to wake him. It would be difficult to get him out of the building to safety if he was completely unconscious, but she would if she had to. Finally his eyes fluttered open.

"Kurt? Can you hear me?" she asked, hopefully.

She heard doors open in the distance, worrying that someone had noticed a struggle and contacted the authorities. She pulled him to his feet, keeping him pressed against the wall for support.

"Do you folks need some help?" a warm female voice came from down the hall. She picked up the pace, jogging closer to assist.

"We're fine," Remi said. "My friend here had a little too much to drink."

Looking at Kurt with complete doubt, she replied, "He's bleeding."

The woman came very close, putting her hand on Kurt's shoulder as she investigated. She was dressed in a tailored pantsuit with expensive shoes that made Remi suspect she was law enforcement instead of military. Her voice was smooth and professional, with the careful enunciation of someone who'd probably received extensive education. As she looked at Remi to await a response, Remi noted that her deep brown eyes were empathetic but probing, and she was comfortable pushing for answers.

"He fell," Remi said, explaining as little as possible.

Remi frantically tried to figure a way out of this mess without leaving Kurt behind. The woman looked at her and said, "I'm a friend of General Neal. He called me. I'm here to help you."

Doubting any offer of help was altruistic, Remi paused, but this was her only option for now, so each of the women pulled one of Kurt's arms over their shoulders and they hurried down the hall.

* * *

Remi and the stranger were able to get Kurt to the back of a van that had been waiting. So many of Remi's instincts screamed that this was a mistake, but she wasn't sure how bad Kurt's injuries were, or who this person was. She didn't feel any better when she saw General Neal waiting in the back of the van.

As soon as Kurt was safely inside, Remi looked at General Neal, drew back her fist, and punched him with everything she had. She heard the sharp crack of his jaw and felt the impact radiate through her knuckles, but that was nothing compared to the pain she felt in her heart. "He trusted you," she explained coolly.

"I know," Neal answered, watching as the stranger tried to hold her back so she wouldn't hurt him any further. "It's okay, Bethany," he said. "I deserved that." Turning to Remi, he said, "I've made some poor decisions, but I want to help."

"We're both here to help," the stranger said, but the second Kurt groaned and pulled himself up, Remi shoved her away and hurried to his side.

"Are you okay?" Remi asked, putting an arm around his back to steady him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. "Shouldn't you be—"

"That doesn't matter right now," she said.

"I'm fine," he unconvincingly replied.

"We need to get him to the hospital," Neal said.

"No!" Weller shouted. "They'll look for us there."

"I don't think they will," Remi said. "I think I got them off our backs for a couple of days."

"How'd you do that?"

"We'll talk later," she answered.

The stranger ordered, "Neal, you go to the infirmary. Have them check your face. Tell them you broke up a bar fight after we left 'The Ladder.' I'll take these two to a hospital to have his head checked."

"My head is fine!" Kurt griped.

"Kurt, he really hit you hard. You were out for several minutes. I think…" Remi began, hesitating slightly, "we need to go to the hospital. If you have a fractured skull or you're bleeding internally, you might need help. I'll be right there with you."

He looked nauseous and too dizzy to fight, so he leaned against her arm.

"Let's go," the stranger said.

Neal turned to Kurt, his face bloody from where Remi had punched him, and said, "I really am sorry."

Before they could respond, Neal slipped out the back door.

Remi sat next to Kurt on the floor of the van, holding his head on her lap as they drove.

* * *

They arrived at the hospital with a story that everyone seemed to buy. Kurt was surprised how easily Remi could sound perfectly normal and calm after everything that had happened. The hospital wanted to keep him 24 hours for observation, but since the tests showed no major bleeding or fractures, he and Remi decided to sneak away before Neal's friend returned. Remi could monitor a concussion as well as anyone.

Once Kurt was dressed, she wrapped an arm around his waist just to be certain he didn't fall, and the two were ready to leave.

Then the door opened, and Neal's friend entered. "Going somewhere?" she asked.

"Thanks for your help," Kurt said, "but we've—"

"Have a seat," she insisted. "We need to talk."

Remi sat next to Kurt, the two exchanging nervous glances as the stranger locked the door.

"I am Special Agent Bethany Mayfair. I'm with the Federal Bureau of…" she stalled, observing Remi's eyes and their immediate search for escape. "I'm not here to arrest you, Remi," she reassured. "I'm sure you could get away, if you wanted to. Given the company you keep, it's pretty surprising you've been able to survive this long."

Kurt responded, "I don't know what you're talking—"

"Save it," Mayfair interrupted. "I've been investigating Frank Doyle for years. I know all about him. I've been trying to get the evidence to take him down. He's not one of the good guys. Remi, I know what happened to you…I know how he used you to purchase intel. And let me guess…he carried on a _relationship_ with you?" Remi glanced up, but refused to answer. "He has a reputation for a special fondness for _younger_ women," Mayfair said, her lip snarling with disgust. "We thought about arresting him on those charges, but we didn't have enough proof to make it stick. Ultimately this is a lot bigger than Frank Doyle, and my superiors want to take down his entire ring before a lot of innocent people get hurt."

"Wait," Remi said, shaking her head, "he has a reputation for…"

"Yes," Mayfair replied before she continued. "It's not a well-guarded secret."

Kurt put his hand on Remi's back, knowing from the look on her face that she was wondering if Shepherd had known about Doyle's reputation before allowing him access to her daughter. Remi, though, wasn't so easily distracted. "What do you want from us?" she asked.

"I want information. Enough to make sure whatever attack Doyle is planning will never happen."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Try to think extra hard," Mayfair said, "because if I take them down and you're not on my side, you and your brother Roman are going to go down with them."

"What's the offer?" Kurt asked, terrified at the thought of losing Remi.

"You help me get what I need, and I'll make sure you all get a fresh start. No charges, no jail."

Kurt expected Remi to resist, maybe even run, but instead she said, "For me, my brother, Kurt and his sister?"

"Yes," Mayfair nodded.

"You don't have the authority to offer deals like that," Kurt doubted.

"You have my word. I promise you all a fresh start."

"My brother…" Remi said, worriedly. "He's been through a lot and—"

"If you help me, I will do everything in my power to get you whatever you need," Mayfair added. "Look, take the night. Think about it."

Kurt wondered where in the hell he and Remi would stay for the night, and then, as if she were in his head, Mayfair added, "I can give you a place to rest. You can sleep on it.

* * *

Mayfair took them to a pleasant suburban home, adorned with pumpkins and other autumnal decorations. Inside each window were perfectly hung curtains and electric candles, creating a warm and welcoming aura. Remi had sort of expected to be taken to a very different place to hide for the night, a decrepit cabin or abandoned rowhome in the worst parts of the city, certainly nothing like this.

Using a remote to open the garage door, Mayfair drove them inside and closed the door before leading them into a warm kitchen that smelled of apple and spices. When they saw a cultured woman reading in the corner by lamplight, Remi was convinced they'd entered the wrong place. The woman had hair that was nearly perfectly white, and kindly eyes partially hidden by her reading glasses.

"Bethany," the older woman said, placing her glasses on top of her book on the end table, standing, and welcoming Mayfair with open arms. "Is this…them?"

"Mayra, this is Remi and Kurt."

Kurt probably had a headache that rivaled any pain he'd ever felt before and they were both exhausted, and neither of them had expected to be treated as long awaited guests. She shook Remi and Kurt's hands with both of hers, welcoming each genuinely. "I made apple butter," she said, pulling a towel back from still-warm bread and retrieving an earthen crock. "Are you hungry?"

Remi felt like she should say no, but her mouth watered as she looked at the offerings. Kurt, with less caution, almost immediately answered, "Starving," somehow able to eat in spite of his pain.

"Sit down," Mayra replied, directing them to stools around the kitchen counter.

Somehow they'd ended up in the strangest hideout, being housed by someone who looked more like a sweet old grandmother than an associate of the FBI.

As they ate, Mayfair asked, "Can you give them a room for tonight, and maybe tomorrow? He sustained a pretty nasty concussion and needs to rest."

Mayra nodded, "Is this what you need to get Doyle?"

Mayfair smiled empathetically. "I certainly hope so."

"Then of course."

"I don't get it," Remi said, unconcerned with politeness. "Who are you? Why are you helping us? What makes you think this place is safe?"

"It's safe," Mayra answered. "Rest tonight. We'll talk more over breakfast." Looking at Mayfair, she said, "Take them upstairs, will you?"

Kurt and Remi followed Mayfair, and when she showed them the rooms that would be theirs, Remi began to worry. "My brother…I don't know if he's safe. And Kurt's sister, what if Doyle goes after her?"

"I have someone keeping an eye on them both," Mayfair answered.

"That's impossible," Remi said, her tone less emphatic than her words.

"It's not impossible," Mayfair responded confidently.

"Why do you care about Roman and Sarah?"

Mayfair sighed, "He's another piece of the puzzle, a witness. And…if I'm being perfectly honest…I don't think you'll cooperate with us if we can't guarantee their safety. You're probably our best chance at ending this. If Sarah and Roman aren't safe, what's to stop the two of you from disappearing and never being heard from again?"

Without offering a real answer, Remi smirked for a moment until she continued questioning. "I need some answers. Why did you bring us here? Who is that lady?"

Mayfair looked irritated, but seemed to know she was dealing with someone who would get answers one way or another. She closed the door behind her and said, "My first real case…a teenager, female, was reported missing and found dead. We're almost positive Frank Doyle is the man responsible. That girl…was Mayra's granddaughter. She will do anything to make sure he sees justice."

Remi stared down at the ground, considering the possibility of her own mortality at the hands of Frank Doyle, and found she couldn't say much else.

"Get some rest," Mayfair said, her hand falling onto Remi's shoulder. She looked at Kurt and said, "Come on, the room next door is yours."

"He stays with me," Remi said immediately, like the thought that Kurt might go elsewhere was unfathomable.

Mayfair bobbed her head and smiled. "We'll talk more tomorrow."

Once Mayfair was gone, Remi locked the door, then walked around the room to make sure each window was locked and the blinds fully drawn. She saw the sensors for a very complex and expensive security system on each window.

Kurt sat on the edge of the bed, taking off his shoes. Remi could tell by the way he moved that the thudding in his head was a force to be reckoned with, and the side where Doyle had kicked him hurt like hell, too. She quickly stripped down to her tee shirt and panties and helped him remove everything but his underwear before she nudged him into the bed and covered them both up.

Facing him, she slung one leg over his hip, her hand coming to rest on his face and gently stroking his stubbly cheek. "I am so sorry," she whispered, her mind truly considering how close she'd come to mourning the loss of this man forever.

"Why are you sorry? This isn't your fault."

"It kind of is. When I think about how close I came to losing you—"

"But that didn't happen. I'm not sure why you came back, but it's good you did."

"I lied to you. I'm sorry."

"What did you lie about?" he nervously asked, taking her hand, bruised and swollen from punching Neal, and holding it gently against his heart.

"I was never going to leave you at the academy until after your meeting with Neal," she confessed. She wasn't sure why she felt so compelled to tell him the truth, but she did. "I didn't come _back_ to the academy…I never left. I was keeping an eye on you."

"Why?"

"I—I was worried. I was scared something would happen to you. I had a hunch, something just didn't feel right. I know you're probably mad."

"Hard to be mad. You saved my ass tonight."

"I told Doyle I'm manipulating you, trying to bring you into their group. I told him to update Shepherd, and that I'd reach out to her in a day or two."

"Think he believed you?"

"I'm sure he has concerns, but I think, for the most part, yea."

"And Shepherd? Will she believe it?"

Remi shook her head, her eyes lowering from his. "I really doubt it. We need to get Roman out of there."

"Tell Mayfair to get him out tomorrow," Kurt answered.

"But do you think we can trust Mayfair?" Remi asked.

"I'm not sure what choice we have. I'm not going to let them lock you up. Doyle has to be stopped. And whatever he and Shepherd are planning can't be good."

"Yea," Remi sadly agreed.

"Whatever we decide to do, we do it together," Kurt asserted.

"Doyle said I have to bring you back to the farm, prove to them that I can control you," she replied. "So unless Mayfair has one hell of a plan, you'll have to go with me."

For a second he rested, but suddenly his body tensed and his eyes popped open. "Promise me you won't try to sneak off and handle this without me?"

"I promise."

"How do I know you aren't lying?"

"I won't lie to you again," she said, meeting his stare and trying to convey the vehemence behind her words. "Get some sleep," she said, kissing his forehead and each of his eyelids before she delicately pressed her lips to his.

Kurt began to snore seconds later, and she watched him sleep, feeling lucky to still be holding him. She thought of Mayra's granddaughter, and the fact that she had been one of many young women in Doyle's past. When they'd been together, Remi had thought she was special to Doyle, unique. She'd always thought the world had aged her beyond her years, and that Frank had seen that, too, and that he'd been interested in her in _spite_ of her age and not _because_ of it. He had always affirmed all of these thoughts. But really she hadn't ever been anything special to him. She'd been one of many prey who were caught in the sights of that predator. She felt foolish for ever falling into his trap and believing the things he'd said.

She'd despised him for quite a while, and now, somehow, she hated him even more. He'd hurt other young women, likely many who weren't as jaded and toughened by a life of violence as she'd been. And she could still see him brushing off his hands after carrying Kurt, as if the younger man had been a filthy job beneath Doyle. Doyle wasn't fit to lick the dirt off of Kurt's shoes.

The fondness she'd had for Kurt had become love, and now carried with it a fierce desire to protect and guard him. She would do absolutely anything to ensure she never had to see Kurt being limply dragged behind Doyle ever again. Kurt was hers and she was his. Her friend. Her love. Remi closed her eyes and imagined waking one morning when this was all over, she and Kurt curled up in each other's arms.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Remi woke before dawn and stood and stretched. Somehow that tiny twin bed had been plenty for them, probably because they'd been wrapped up in each other's arms and couldn't seem to let go. As she looked at Kurt lying in the bed alone, she saw how ridiculously long he seemed in comparison, his feet hanging off the end. What had been comfortable for her had probably been very uncomfortable for him.

She knew what was coming. Within the next day, she'd have to return to Shepherd, probably with Kurt, to make sure Roman was safe. Doyle and Shepherd would be suspicious, and chances were good that Mayfair was going to have them wired or sent in as spies. As nice as a new life with Kurt and their siblings sounded, she knew it wasn't likely to happen for her. She doubted she'd live to the end of the week, but she was going to do her damnedest to make sure the others did.

Climbing back into bed, staggering her legs between his, she curled up as close as she could. She felt his cock stir against her hip, a reaction she'd pretty much been counting on. "How's your head?" she asked, not wanting to take advantage of the man if he was still in a great deal of pain.

"Feels better," he replied, probably only half lying.

She lifted her thigh, pressing it against his sex and hearing him softly groan with want. "Think you can handle me?" she chuckled.

"Yea," he smirked, but when she pulled down the covers that had been over him, she saw the dark bruise on his side from where Doyle had kicked him.

"Maybe this is a bad idea."

"We are guests here. Would be kinda rude," he said, ignoring the possibility that they should wait because of his injuries. But his hands were pressing into her thighs and he wasn't really acting like someone who wanted to stop.

"It would be."

"But...it's not like anyone would have to know."

She smiled at the way he started to lean into a justification. "We can be quiet. Besides, if we get sent to Shepherd's…we won't know how that will—"

He sat up, silencing her words with his mouth, and her hands immediately surrounded his face as he pulled her on top of him. She knew by the fierceness with which he'd silenced her that he knew just how dangerous the coming days would be. It was hard to consider the possibility that this might be their last time together.

"I'm outta rubbers," he reminded her as he took a breath.

"I have some," she said, sitting up, her hands moving over his torso, careful to avoid the bruised areas. "But…"

"But what?"

"You have any diseases I should know about?"

"No," he answered immediately, sounding a little offended. "I am extremely careful 100% of the time."

"Nobody's careful 100% of the time."

"I am. I'm a very careful guy. Even when I don't want to be—"

"Okay," she chuckled, "I'm completely clean. Only had one real partner before you, we were always careful, and I actually got tested when we were over…just because I wanted to know for sure."

"Oh," he slowly grinned. "Are you suggesting we don't use anything?"

She smirked because she could see the way he was blushing even in the dimly lit room. "Yea. If that's okay with you."

"That is very okay with me," he replied, sitting up a bit too quickly and wincing. "I'll stop—"

"You don't have to stop." She saw the momentary flash of complete panic, which actually reassured her. They were far too young to risk children. "I have a birth control implant. I can prove it. You can feel it under my skin," she said, directing his fingers.

"I believe you."

"No wait…here…you can feel it here—"

"Remi," he interrupted. "I believe you. Okay?"

"Okay," she smiled. "You've really never done this with anyone else before?"

"Nope. I swear," he said. "You?"

"Me neither," she replied, chuckling for a reason she didn't even understand. She whispered, more seriously, "At least I get to be your first in some way."

"You're my first in a lot of ways," he commented, his hand cradling her face. "First woman I've ever really loved. First woman I can actually imagine making a life with."

She stared blankly as she tried to take in all that he'd said, and she could see the awkward worry he felt in the wake of the confession. Part of her heart begged her to tell him she felt the same, that she loved him in a way she'd never loved anyone else. That part of her could imagine them in an apartment or a house, figuring out what real domesticity was. But what an awful thing that would be to confess if Shepherd killed her tomorrow. Instead of having that conversation, she slipped below the sheets, licking and teasing his sex enough to make sure he was fully hard for her, although she really didn't need to be of much help.

Eschewing common stereotypes, she was often the one who hurried through foreplay, noting and appreciating his interest in making sure she enjoyed sex and that she was fully aroused, but usually she was more than ready at the drop of a hat. She'd never had a relationship like this, and found that most days she couldn't wait to fuck him again.

She pushed her hands to the mattress on either side of him and scooted up, her legs spread over his thighs, and she pumped his erection as she aligned their bodies. He asked, "You sure you're good with this?"

"Yea." She nodded her head, but he reached an exploratory finger between their bodies, teasing her clit, swirling around in the pool of her own wetness. "You sure?" she replied, more of a moan in response to him than an actual word.

"Definitely."

"Even when I'm alone and I think about having sex with you, I get wet like this," she purred. "Just thinking about you…and how you touch me, the way you feel..."

With his finger still swirling her clit, she brought their bodies together, then began to take him inside her. Her hands grabbed his shoulders as she slid down his shaft until he was buried deep inside her. "Feel different?" she asked, twisting her hips as she slowly lifted and lowered.

"Oh yea," he replied, still trying to sound controlled.

"Tell me how it feels," she insisted.

"How _you_ feel," he corrected.

"Yea."

"Warm," he confessed, his hands locking on her hips. "So slippery."

"You like that?"

"A lot. Love feeling you right on me," he said, sounding like he'd only just learned to speak words, his jaw clenched, unable to look at her.

"What else?" she gasped softly, rocking patiently but with a full range of motion over him.

She felt his thighs and saw his abdomen tense. "Sorta tighter but softer and…shhhh." He argued, silencing himself more than her, reining in his racing body. Once he had more control, he said, "You? You like it?"

He did feel different to her, although she wasn't sure if it was the missing physical or symbolic barrier that had the greatest impact. The intensity of his arousal and enjoyment spread into her, and she felt that through her whole being. "Yea. You feel closer. I feel your body rubbing right against mine and—"

"Honey, stop. You gotta stop," he pleaded.

"Are you almost there?" she questioned without a hint of condemnation, instead sounding extremely turned on and a little bit pleased with herself. She was driving him crazy.

He lifted up and flipped so she was under him, their heads at the foot of the bed, hormones masking any pain he should have felt. She wasn't at all upset or even terribly aware of the fact that she was beneath him, his hands grabbing onto hers and threading through her fingers as he began to plunge into her body wildly.

Her moans escalated, punctuated by an aroused gasp every time he reached the fullness of her depths. She made an effort to quiet herself, pinching her lips between her teeth to keep her mouth shut. Her body squeezed his, creating a tighter fit that was quickly becoming too much for him. When she said, "Wanna feel you come in me," those words thrust them both over the edge, the tiny bed rocking so forcefully that it was scootching across the wooden floor.

They both moaned together at the intensity of the encounter, their voices finding the same note in different octaves, both hiding their mouths against their partner's shoulder to stifle the sounds so they wouldn't be heard by anyone else in the house.

As their racing bodies slowed, he kept a firm grip on her ass, holding her against him so she couldn't pull away. She grabbed onto him in the same way, holding him inside her for a little longer. This time there was no need for him to get up, leaving her there in the bed, so they lay there, allowing their bodies to remain joined.

* * *

As much as the pair wanted to laze around in the cozy twin bed all day, duty called, and it was time to meet with Mayfair and figure out their plan. Remi felt ready until they all sat down around the dining room table, a carafe of coffee at hand, and began to discuss the details.

Mayfair was obsessed with catching Doyle, a fact that Remi could easily see. As Mayfair continued to regale them with the reasons why Frank Doyle should be stopped, Remi felt growing concerns about turning against Shepherd. "Doyle's an asshole," Remi interrupted. "You don't need to say anything else to convince me that he should fry." Turning to Kurt, she asked, "You agree?"

"Yea," he nodded emphatically. "Take the bastard down."

"Wonderful," Mayfair said with some relief. "But the larger concern is the militia. From what my sources tell me, they're planning a series of smaller, synchronous attacks, culminating with one large, decisive strike. That's the one that scares me, because I can't seem to find any intel on that. Remi, this is where you come in."

"I don't know anything about a large decisive strike," Remi admitted.

"You take orders from the woman known as 'Shepherd', don't you?"

"I agree Doyle needs to go, but—"

"They _both_ need to go," Mayfair interrupted. "Shepherd is dangerous, cunning, a master of manipulation. From what my sources have told me, she's the one who calls the shots, not Doyle."

"She doesn't tell me about things like that. She tells me what my orders are, usually just my part of the job. I do it. I don't know about context or a planned larger attack."

"What do you know?"

"I'm supposed to be in DC next week. For…" Remi paused, slowly blowing out a nervous exhalation.

"People are going to die," Mayfair reminded harshly. Remi didn't respond immediately, and so Mayfair added, "You have the chance to stop this. And, look, I'm sure your brother will be a _really_ popular guy in the Federal Pen. He'd be tried as an adult. A terrorist. Gen Pop is always happy to welcome a young fresh face."

Remi smiled maliciously, "You'd send a sixteen year-old boy in there?"

"If that's what it takes to prevent an attack on this country and the loss of hundreds or maybe thousands of lives? Absolutely."

"I guess you and Doyle have a lot in common then," Remi countered. "Both willing to trade teenagers to get what you want."

Mayfair shook her head, the rage building, "I'm trying to speak a language you understand. You think it's better for him there with Shepherd and Doyle? Is that the life you want for him? Because from where I sit, it's no better than prison."

"Alright, wait," Kurt interrupted, holding up a hand to silence Mayfair. "Give her a minute."

Remi looked toward Kurt, then Mayfair, and Mayra cleared her throat and said, "My granddaughter was expendable. A pawn in Doyle's games. It's easy to say that Doyle's the bad guy, that he's the one who deserves to suffer. But he serves their agenda. And what about all of the other innocents that may die if an attack is carried out. How many people will lose a brother? A child? A husband or wife? Are all of those people expendable too? If they want to make a change in the world, does it have to be through violence?"

"Violence is the only language some people listen to," Remi replied.

"There are other ways. Is their message important enough that you should die for it? What about your brother? Or Kurt?" Mayra asked.

"I can't sit back and let so many people pay the price so Shepherd or Doyle or whoever can make a statement," Mayfair said. "No agenda is worth the lives of innocent civilians."

Remi sighed, "Shepherd wants me to go to DC with Oscar, one of the other soldiers. We're supposed to cause one in a series of what Shepherd has coined 'wake-up calls.' I'm guessing that is one of the smaller synchronous attacks that are supposed to take place throughout the country. I know the approximate location of 4 of those attacks. But it sounds like there are more."

"What's the purpose of these wake-up calls?"

"I'm not exactly sure. The ones that I know of are all transportation-related. Oscar and I were supposed to disrupt the DC Metro."

"How?"

Remi glanced over at Kurt, clearly concerned about saying these things in front of him.

"Kurt, could you step outside for a few moments?" Mayfair asked.

Mayra stood and offered, "Come on, I'll find you something for breakfast."

He didn't move, looking at Remi like he didn't want to leave. "It's okay," Remi said, shaking her head and putting her hand on his. "I can't change who I am. Or…who I was. You might as well know." Remi took a sip of her coffee, the temperature still a little too hot, and sobering. "We're supposed to decommission several of the tracks."

"You realize that people will probably get hurt if the tracks are ' _decommissioned_ ' don't you?" Mayfair questioned.

Remi nodded, her skin feeling hot as thoughts thundered through her head.

"She's been manipulated," Kurt argued. "Raised in a world where she isn't allowed to choose what is right. They use her brother to control her, threaten to put him in harm's way if she won't listen. She's here, and she's helping you. So cut the guilt trip and let's get something done. She knows what she's been a part of. How would you feel if I asked you to betray someone who'd looked out for you? Who'd saved you from a completely horrible life and gave you something just a little better. Remi is loyal. Turning her back on the only family she's ever known can't be easy."

Mayfair responded, "I just want her to understand—"

"I want _you_ to understand that you need to be patient. Give her a little room to breathe. She's trying to do the right thing," Kurt argued. "You don't understand what she's been through."

All eyes were suddenly on him, and they all appeared surprised by the tone of authority that seemed to come from nowhere. No one in that room would doubt his determination to protect her.

"You're right," Mayfair nodded. "This is important. And you have been manipulated in the past. But you have a chance to choose your own path. We're giving you an alternative. It's up to you to choose your side."

Remi drummed her knuckles on the table. "The attacks are scheduled for next Wednesday. It's supposed to be a demonstration of what we're capable of. A broad range, coordinated strike. The goal is destruction of the infrastructure more than body count. A temporary crippling of the transportation system."

"And then what?"

"All I know is that I hit my targets, and then I'm supposed to go home. If I had to guess…I'd say they'll probably come forward with some demands or a message. Something like that. I don't know what that is, but it's probably something about government and military corruption."

"The other four targets?"

"I don't have specifics. Four transportation targets in major cities in the Northeast."

Mayfair looked surprised. "Sounds pretty serious for a 'wake-up call'. Depending on the type of strike, it could either cause massive panic and disorder, or we could be looking at a large number of casualties."

"I was told the target was the hardware. Cripple transportation. Civilian casualties aren't the goal."

"But they could happen," Mayfair insisted. "So if all of this is just a warmup…what are they planning for the main strike?"

Remi shook her head, "I don't know."

"We need to figure it out and stop all of these wake-up call attacks."

"It won't be easy. These militia groups are spread out all over the country. Most don't know what the others are doing. Even if one particular part falls through, the other attacks will likely still play out."

Mayfair noted, "Shepherd probably knows where all of the attacks will be."

Remi shrugged. "If she does, she won't tell you."

"Then we have to find out. There must be a way to figure out the remaining targets."

Remi's eyes widened as she had an idea, and she said, "Doyle has some equipment stored in an old fallout shelter on the farm. Some laptops, maps, things like that."

"Can you get in that room?" Mayfair asked, standing slightly from her chair.

"No. No way," Remi answered. "I can't even get to the bunker. And even if I could, I'm not sure if you'll find the answers you want...it's just a guess."

Remi's phone buzzed in her pocket, and she grabbed it. Flipping it open, she smiled and flashed the phone at Kurt. A text message read:

 _Gordo: Where's the next playdate? I have some toys you'd like if you want to share._

Remi took a deep breath. "I know who might be able to figure some of this out. But he'll want immunity. I'm supposed to set up a meet with him."

Mayfair looked at Mayra and shook her head, "We're already in this far. Bring him in."

* * *

Gord was not pleased when he arrived at the spot where he was supposed to meet Remi and was instead taken into FBI custody. The moment he was brought into Mayra's house, he pointed at Remi and said, "I never took you for a snitch."

"She doesn't have much of a choice unless she and her brother want to spend the majority of their adult lives locked up," Mayfair said. "And unless you want to join them, you should do your best to cooperate."

"I'm being framed," Gord argued. "This is some sort of entrapment."

"Don't waste my time," Mayfair stated coolly. "You can help us and buy your way out of a ridiculous amount of trouble…or you can kiss the rest of your freedom and your college education goodbye. Choice is yours."

* * *

Shortly thereafter, Gord showed everyone what he'd found. And he'd found a great deal. He'd located contacts all over the country that were probably representatives from various militia cells. This was the first big step to finding leads on the other groups who could be part of a larger attack. But he hadn't found any actual plans that outlined the details.

"I think the plans are probably kept on another central computer," Gord said.

"Do you think it might be in that bunker you mentioned?" Mayfair asked Remi.

"I don't think there's any electricity down there. I think it's just storage," Remi said.

"What about the equipment in the barn? Everything in those locking cabinets?" Kurt asked. "There was a computer in there."

"I don't know what all that's for! I don't know anything about computers," Remi admitted.

"Is there a phone line to the barn?" Gord asked.

"Sure," Remi replied. "There's a phone…so."

"But is there a phone line plugged into a box that's plugged into the computer? It would have blinking lights…makes a sound like a phone but it's not a phone," Gord pushed.

"Like a FAX machine sound?" Remi asked.

"Kind of," Gord rolled his eyes, "we're on the verge of a new millennium…get on board folks. I'm talking about a modem. If there's a modem, and the machine is on, I can connect."

"Are you sure?" Mayfair skeptically asked.

"I'm sure," Gord replied cockily. Looking at Remi he said, "You're young. You really have no idea about any of this? Your school didn't have some kind of intro-to-computers class?"

Remi shrugged, looking very uncomfortable. "I wouldn't know," she calmly answered, walking away to let Mayfair iron out the details. "You guys figure it out. When you do, send me in. I'm ready."

Kurt followed her to the kitchen. "You okay?"

She nodded her head.

"I don't know anything about computers either," he said, thinking that her lack of technical proficiency was making her uncomfortable. "But I'm sure he couldn't defend himself in a real fight or run missions like you can."

"I didn't go to high school," she abruptly confessed.

"Why?"

"I've never been to any school. You asked me about that a long time ago, and I didn't answer because…I've never been enrolled. We've had a few tutors. I can read and write. But even if I wanted to, I'd never get into any college."

"Why didn't you tell me?" he gently probed.

"It's embarrassing. Makes me sound stupid."

"I know you're not stupid," he replied, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "Once we're done with all of this, I can help you study for the GED. If you get that, you can go to college."

"Yea," she said, the hopelessness peering through, "once we're done with this."

"We _will_ be done with this," he tried to reassure. "We will."

"You guys better come see this," Gord shouted from the other room.

Sitting in front of the computer, he gestured for them to approach.

"Don't overreact," Mayfair said. "This is completely expected. We can take care of this threat and—"

"What's she talking about?" Remi asked Gord.

"I was able to access some of Shepherd's security and—"

"What is it?" Remi yelled.

Mayfair let her pass to look over Gord's shoulder, Kurt following immediately. For a few long seconds, the young couple just stared. In grainy footage, they saw the image of two people tied up. Gord zoomed in so they could see, but they didn't really need to see to know their suspicions were correct. In the same cell where Remi had been kept when she returned from her road trip with Kurt and Sarah, two teens were tied back to back on the floor. Sarah was on the left, her face streaked with tears. Roman was tied at her back, his face full of confused anguish and fury. Two armed guards patrolled the cell, and, disturbingly, Doyle came into view. He actually paused, his grey eyes turning toward the camera and offering a menacing smirk. He stepped back slowly until he was standing behind Sarah. He lowered down on his haunches and rubbed the back of his long fingers down Sarah's cheek.

Just as Weller was about to pick up the monitor and smash it to the ground, two figures appeared and hung a sign behind the teens. "REMI-BE HOME BY NOON TOMORROW. BRING YOUR FRIEND. DO NOT BE LATE."

Kurt had never felt guilt like that, and he could see Remi felt the same way. He'd been wasting time with Neal, staying with Remi, foolishly believing that he could get back to Sarah before anything would happen. And he was wrong. He accused himself of being selfish, indulgent, and greedy, and Sarah was paying the price.

"You said you had someone looking out for them," Remi accused Mayfair.

"We did. I can't make contact with either of the teams assigned to them," Mayfair admitted.

"I told you I didn't need to go to the hospital," Kurt yelled at Mayfair. "I should have left. Picked up Sarah and Roman—"

"It's not your fault," Remi argued. "It was mine. I was okay, so I should have left you here and gone to get them last night. I'm sorry, Kurt."

"Everyone calm down," Mayfair said, maintaining a sense of rationality and poise. "They're trying to get your attention, push us into making a mistake. We have to be smart."

"Well they fucking got my attention," Kurt yelled back, his ability to stay calm destroyed whenever Sarah was involved. Rage boiled inside him, and he wasn't sure how to keep it all contained. He could blame everyone else, but deep down, the person he truly blamed was himself.

"You don't want to make a mistake."

"Let's go," Remi said, looking at Kurt, who was already following her.

Mayfair held out a gun. "Don't make me do this. Because I will. I don't want to hurt either of you. But if you run in there half-cocked, you're going to get yourselves, those kids, and probably thousands of innocent civilians killed."

"I can't just leave my sister there. With him. I can't do it," Kurt shouted.

"No one is asking you to. We will go in. We will get them back. But we need a plan."

"Why should we trust you?" Remi argued.

"Because you don't have a choice. I have resources you two don't have. Tomorrow, before the deadline, you will be there. We will get them back, unharmed. But we need to do it right."

Kurt pulled Remi aside so they could talk in private, "It's my fault," he said. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not, Kurt. I got you involved in this, and Sarah, and I knew I should have left last night, but I got reckless and—"

"It is not your fault," he interrupted. "It's Shepherd and Doyle. We need to stay focused on that, on taking them down, and getting Sarah and Roman to safety."

"The question is…do we go in with Mayfair or on our own?"

"I don't think we have a choice. You cooperate, you get immunity. And she's right…they have resources, firepower."

"If anything happens to either of them," Remi said, her eyes showing panic that her voice did not.

"If you want to protect your families, we have to move now," Mayfair said as she approached.

"What's your plan?" Kurt asked.

"We'll work out the details on the way. I have my top team working on it."

"Fine," Kurt said after Remi nodded at him. "But before we go in there, I want papers, something signed, that shows that Remi and her brother get full immunity."

"I can do that," Mayfair said. "You're making the right choice. I promise you I will do everything I can to make sure they're back safe. Now get your things. We need to start the drive up to Shepherd's farm while we make our plan."

"Good luck," Gord said as he took a few steps back to the door. "Remi, you can pay me what you owe me when you get a chance, no rush."

Mayfair grabbed his jacket and shoved him down into a chair. "Nice try. You're with us."


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N-Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. This will wrap up the angstier and more dramatic part of this story. A few epilogue-ish chaps will follow, depending on my mood, to see what happens with our heroes. Thank you all SO MUCH for your support. This story has been a very different, very fun experience for me, and I appreciate your patience and the definite "suspension of disbelief" that was necessary to read this. Haha.  
**

* * *

 **Chapter 14**

Mayfair was able to get a warrant from a sympathetic judge based on Kurt and Remi's statements and the photographic evidence that Roman and Sarah were being held against their will. Unfortunately that was only the first step. Remi warned that if Shepherd saw a raid coming, she'd use a network of explosives that were set in key locations all around the farm to destroy evidence. Saving Roman and Sarah was obviously the fundamental goal (at least for Kurt and Remi), but they also needed to find the organization's various attack plans so they could stop them before people got hurt.

Gord tried to get access remotely to the plans, but it seemed like the computer they needed wasn't online. Remi and Kurt's plan was simple: get in, make sure the computer in the barn was powered up, plug in a cellular card, secure Roman and Sarah, and protect them when the raid came. If possible, Mayfair also wanted the evidence from the bunker, just in case there was additional intel hidden there. Remi seriously doubted the plan would go off without a hitch. There was a reason Shepherd was respected and seemingly above the law: she was devious and ruthless.

Remi knew the plan Mayfair spouted so pragmatically was anything but simple. Kurt and Remi each hastily promised to look after the other's sibling if it went wrong, and if they hadn't been distracted by the immensity of the task before them, that promise would have been far more painful to make. The trickiest part was that Mayfair wanted to wait until Gord retrieved the data before raiding the farm so they could be sure they'd gotten everything they needed before Shepherd destroyed it. After all, they wanted to bring Shepherd in alive.

Gord and Mayfair were set up nearby, awaiting the signal they hoped Remi and Kurt would be able to broadcast when they plugged the cell card into the computer. A small army of FBI and local law enforcement waited, but they had to keep a substantial distance to avoid being detected.

* * *

Kurt considered himself a brave man, certainly not a coward, but sneaking through the surrounding fields around the farm was truly terrifying. This wasn't some lightweight mission like meeting with Gord, they were walking right into Shepherd and Doyle's territory. The lives of everyone Kurt cared about were on the line.

He and Remi planned to sneak onto the farm, using the inside knowledge that she had of Shepherd and the compound, and hook the cellular card to the computer and make sure it was powered on. Once they'd completed those two tasks, they'd pretend to stroll onto the farm to meet Shepherd as if they'd just arrived. Remi promised him that if Shepherd found them before they accessed the computer, she'd never let them get near it. Although he felt he was doing a fantastic job of appearing calm, it took every last piece of his reserves not to be overwhelmed by the thousands of things that could go wrong in the upcoming hours. This wasn't a time to think, this was the time to be a soldier, calculating, efficient, and strong.

He and Remi crawled through the low autumn brush along the edge of a recently razed cornfield. The half-dead remnants of plant life scratched at them, briars poking through their clothes as they tried to navigate without making a sound. As they came across a place that seemed familiar to him, he realized it had been part of the long running path he'd taken with Remi and Roman, back when she was an untouchable mystery to him.

So much had changed since his last visit here. He was in love, completely head-over-heels enamored with this woman, and it was enough to make him do the most insane things. This farm that had once simply seemed 'weird' was now revealed to be the headquarters for something far more insidious. And Sarah, the one human being he'd vowed to do anything to protect, was now in a whole world of danger. And it was his fault.

Gratefully his thoughts had distracted him from the remainder of the long crawl into position. When they were finally there, Remi signaled for him to wait while she made the stealthy dash to the barn, but he refused to sit in a safe spot while she risked herself. He whispered, almost noiselessly, "If you get caught, they'll wonder why you're here on your own. You were instructed to bring me. We both go."

She sneered but nodded, clearly accepting that he was right even though she didn't want to. After a quick moment of scheming, he followed her to the barn. She was careful to avoid known cameras and trip wires, but as soon as they were in the barn, she groaned.

Weller knew that groan couldn't possibly be a good sign, but she hurried to the computer and quickly powered it on, and plugged in the device Gord had given her. She shut the doors as quietly as possible and led Kurt over to the entrance to the basement as she harshly rasped, "They probably know we're here."

She nodded at a camera on the far wall, and when he saw the rapidly blinking light and a lens that followed them as they moved, he figured she was right. The door was latched with a recently changed lock, and Remi's key did not open it. Just as she stooped to pick the lock, they heard Shepherd's voice ask, "Looking for this?"

Shepherd held out a key that was fastened to a chain around her neck.

Remi, appearing entirely unflustered, held out her hand and said, "Thanks," like Shepherd would simply turn it over.

Shepherd laughed and Kurt felt hope run cold at the sound. "First, why are you sneaking around? If you and your new… _friend…_ are just here to help the cause?"

"Locking up Roman, my brother, your _son_ , was completely uncalled for. I need to know if he's okay before we talk about anything else."

"You think I'd hurt my own boy?" Shepherd asked, hand to her heart like she'd been wounded. The phony display made her lack of soul apparent.

"Show me Roman," Remi demanded.

"And Sarah," Kurt added, at first irritated that Remi hadn't thought to ask about his sister, and then he realized that Shepherd would probably find Remi's concern for anyone other than Roman to be suspicious.

"Cadet Weller, such a pleasure," Shepherd cringed. "Your siblings were taken somewhere more comfortable. You'll have to take my word that they're fine."

"I want to see him," Remi insisted.

"All in good time. Now, Weller, Remi seems to believe she's helped you see the truth? You want to join our quest for justice?"

"Yes, ma'am," he answered with military formality.

Shepherd nodded, obviously not believing him for a moment, or even making any attempt to make it look like she believed him. "Why?" she asked.

Remi and Kurt had practiced all of the finer talking points and arguments that had been drilled into her head in the preceding years. Remi had told him it might come in handy if they needed to convince Shepherd that Kurt wanted to join them.

He thought over the things that Remi had taught him, and he picked a few that genuinely upset him so he would sound more believable. After all, he loved his country, the military, and the government, but there were things they'd done that he definitely disagreed with. Honing in on the objections they shared, he told Shepherd exactly why he hated them in his own words.

For the scantest moment, there was a glimmer in her eye that made him think that _maybe_ they could sell this, and she'd actually believed him. Then she looked away, gazing out the door in the distance as she pinched her lips between her teeth and gave the situation some thought. She waved a hand to someone out there, and Kurt was certain that Doyle was about to join them.

Weller heard steps crunching over the ground as someone approached, but when he saw the man, it wasn't Doyle. He saw the passing flash of nervousness in Remi's expression that made it clear that she knew him. Kurt knew the guy must have been young, right around Remi's age, lacking the vile creepiness of Doyle. If anything, this guy looked like a soldier, obedient, loyal, but not a leader. "It's good to see you," the man said to Remi, and Kurt understood the emotions behind the way he looked at her.

"Hey Oscar," Remi said with a nod.

Something in her voice made it clear that Remi was worried about Oscar's appearance at that moment, and Kurt felt a foreboding mood settle in.

"You're back?" Oscar asked.

"Yea. I'm here. Have you seen Roman?"

"I checked on him personally, Rem…" Oscar reassuringly stated. "You know I look out for him." Turning to Kurt like his very presence was inconvenient, "Your sister, or whatever, she's fine too."

"Thanks," Kurt replied, uncertain if he really trusted the words, but if Oscar cared so much for Remi, it seemed likely that he would have checked on the two captives.

Shepherd gave a signal, something that Kurt didn't really understand, but Oscar did.

Oscar looked at Remi and said, "I won't fight you," before he dropped to his knees and hooked his fingers behind his head in surrender.

Kurt's brain scrambled to figure out what was going on, but couldn't seem to grasp it until Shepherd asked. "You want to join?"

"Yes," Kurt adamantly stated.

She took out a gun, turned the barrel toward herself, and handed it to Kurt. "Let's see if you can take orders."

He took the gun, then nodded. He had no idea what he was going to do if she gave an order he couldn't follow through with.

"Kill him," she said, like Oscar wasn't one of her most promising followers.

"Why?" Kurt asked, hoping to move this little charade along so he could make sure Sarah was safe before the FBI raid began.

"Because I told you to," Shepherd said, as calmly as if she'd asked him to pass the salt at dinner.

He raised his hand, mostly trying to bide time, hoping that at any moment Mayfair and their friends would come bounding in to save the day.

"This is ridiculous," Remi said, stepping in front of Oscar, who seemed all too willing to take a bullet…or maybe he knew he wasn't really in any danger.

"How sweet," Shepherd replied with saccharine disgust. "Perhaps you do have feelings for Oscar after all."

Kurt could tell Shepherd was trying to hurt him, to threaten the connection between him and Remi.

"No," Remi shook her head, "I just don't see the point in wasting a perfectly useful operative. Oscar is helpful. Obedient. And, clearly, he'll die for you. Find someone else to test Weller's loyalty."

Shepherd turned to Kurt, as if Remi didn't even exist, and pulled out a gun of her own, showing her readiness to use the weapon. "Shoot him, or I shoot you."

He saw that Shepherd could put a bullet between his eyes with no more depth of emotion than piercing the center of a paper target. "I can't shoot an unarmed guy, kneeling on the ground," Kurt argued, dropping his gun hand. "Look, I agree with you…the government, the powers that be…totally out of control. They answer to no one. But I still have standards. Ask me to strike a target, shoot some rapist, killer or child molester, something worthwhile. This guy here, is he any of those things?" Kurt nodded at Oscar, "tell me what he's done to deserve to die."

"Do you question your commanding officers like that?" Shepherd asked.

"I haven't ever questioned them," Kurt replied, watching Shepherd's smug expression, "but…after all Remi has taught me…maybe I should have. Isn't that the whole point of this? Not to just blindly accept what those in charge tell you so you can find the truth?"

His speech was rather impassioned, and it definitely looked like Shepherd might have been swayed. She walked over, putting an arm around his shoulder. "That's an interesting thought."

"The spirit of the movement," Kurt agreed.

The next few moments happened in absolute slow motion. Shepherd's grin melted from her face as she turned, staring so close to him that he could feel her snicker. "But in this world," she said, "there are leaders, and there are followers. I'm the leader. So that makes you..." Her hand pulled back and he knew she was pointing her gun at him before he could even react, but he seriously doubted his gun was loaded with real bullets.

A shot rang out, and Kurt flinched as he anticipated pain, but instead, Shepherd's grip on his shoulder became lax as her body weight fell into him. She clenched her shoulder as blood became visible. Kurt searched the area, expecting to find Mayfair at the door wielding her gun, but instead, Oscar, still kneeling on one knee, was the man with a weapon pointed at Shepherd.

Remi stared wide-eyed at Oscar, clearly unprepared for the possibility that he might shoot Shepherd. "I'm sorry," he said to Remi, standing slowly. "I just…couldn't do it."

"Thank you," Kurt said as he carefully lay Shepherd on the ground, grinding the heel of his hand into her wound.

"I didn't do it for you," Oscar spat. Taking Remi's arm, he said, "She was going to kill you. She and Doyle…they don't trust you anymore. They think you're a liability."

"Where's Roman and Sarah?" Remi immediately asked.

"Doyle has them in the bunker," Oscar whispered.

"How do we get them out?" Kurt asked, looking at Remi, wondering how long they had before the FBI stormed the farm and the two teens would likely be Doyle's victims.

"I have an idea," Remi said, her eyes glancing down as Shepherd gasped. "First, we need to make sure these two can't get away."

* * *

Watching Shepherd struggle for breath wasn't something Remi had time to think about. At the moment, she was more concerned with Roman and Sarah, and exactly what twisted plan Doyle had in mind. In order to make this work, she had to go to the bunker alone. She appreciated the fact that Oscar had tried to protect her, but she wasn't sure if this was all part of some elaborate scheme. Kurt locked Oscar and Shepherd up in one of the cells below the barn, just in case.

One of Doyle's lookouts waited outside of the bunker, and signaled that Remi was approaching. She steeled her resolve as Doyle emerged.

"Weller shot Shepherd," Remi said, somberly. "And he injured Oscar before I took him out."

"Weller's been hit?" Doyle's cruel voice questioned.

"Headshot," she stated. "Weller's history."

Doyle tilted his head with disbelief.

"He shot Shepherd, my _mother_ ," Remi said. "He crossed the line. We need to get help for her and Oscar…we might already be too late."

Doyle gazed in the direction of the barn and, with complete disinterest, said, "In due time."

Remi wondered if Doyle had ever been truly loyal to anyone.

"Let me see Roman," she demanded.

Doyle opened his mouth to reply when he saw something in the distance. Remi just glanced over her shoulder, but that second of distraction was enough time for Doyle to grab her by the throat and turn her around. The blade he placed against her neck was so sharp that she felt it split her skin on contact. It was difficult to fight when the slightest movement could slice through an artery. "I should have slit your throat long ago," he rasped, "but this is going to be fun."

"Let go, Frank," she growled, "you're blaming the wrong person."

He laughed hostilely, "I don't believe you. You're a traitor. And it's going to cost you your brother. Seems a shame to waste that cute little blond girl…but sacrifices must be made."

As FBI vehicles charged up the dirt road, some lumbering through fields, helicopters circled above. Doyle pulled out a detonator and squeezed. An explosion in the bunker below made the ground shake as heavy billows of smoke poured from the open door and chunks of debris flung through the air. Most people would have fallen to their knees or cried. Remi supposed it would have been normal to scream, "No," or call her brother's name in anguish, but she shut down her feelings, instead staring emotionlessly. She wasn't about to let Doyle see the pain he caused, but she knew she would never recover from this.

Doyle kicked a chunk of fleshy debris with his foot and asked, "Think that was part of Roman or Blondie? Hard to tell when the pieces are so small."

Her fight wasn't spent though, and she decided that, with her dying breath, she'd end Doyle. Just as she silently made that vow, Doyle sliced into her shoulder near her neck and whispered, "I'm going to cut you up piece by piece…and watch you bleed out every last drop."

The knife moved beneath her breast, and she felt the sharp edge on her skin as he pulled her back toward a waiting truck to make his escape.

Her shirt was growing heavy and warm as the blood from her shoulder and torso soaked it. The FBI was close, but they were either too late or too early. Remi wasn't even sure if it mattered anymore.

Just as the blade cut through her skin and met the bone of her ribs, she heard the zip of nearby bullet. Doyle laughed loudly, but his grip loosened as he leaned back against the truck. Standing in front of her, she saw Kurt, gun raised, honed in on Doyle. He'd made a tricky shot, hitting Doyle's arm enough to make him release Remi, and then Kurt's eyes glanced at Remi and her bloody shirt, and she saw every last bit of pain he'd felt on her behalf for the things she'd experienced because of Doyle. Kurt loathed Doyle, and couldn't seem to contain that emotion any longer as his finger squeezed the trigger three more times.

Remi studied Doyle's injuries and realized that, even in a fit of anger, her boy scout had managed to make sure none of Doyle's wounds were life threatening. Of course they probably hurt like hell. But she gazed at Kurt, at his reddened eyes, and she knew she'd have to tell him that Sarah hadn't escaped the bunker. Her lower lip quivered as he very cautiously put his arm around her, gun still unwaveringly pointed at Doyle, prepared to kill him if necessity called for it.

"Easy," Kurt whispered as he encouraged Remi to lean against him.

The FBI vehicles surrounded the entire area and agents descended on the buildings of the farm. Mayfair leapt from her vehicle to help, and Remi argued, "You should have given me more time."

"I told you we were coming in as soon as Enver got the intel we needed," Mayfair answered. "If we'd waited any longer, the two of you might be dead."

"Well Roman and Sarah _are_ dead," Remi informed, her voice sounding nearly lifeless.

Kurt squinted up at the farmhouse, and she thought it was probably from shock, but he shook his head, and she waited for the pain of what he'd lost to hit him. "Remi," he said, pointing upward, his voice not sounding at all devastated, "look."

She lifted her eyes to the window in the attic, and saw Roman and Sarah pounding their fists on the glass window.

"Doyle must have moved them," she stated, like she should have known.

"Maybe he didn't trust Oscar either," Kurt added.

When Roman used a shackle to break the window, he leaned out and shouted, "Hey, sis. You feel like getting me out of here?"

"We'll be right up," she answered.

Roman shook his head, "Bad idea. Shepherd rigged the house and the door up here with explosives. Can someone toss us a rope?"

Beside Roman stood Sarah Weller, but she wasn't relaxed and grinning like a fool. Tears streamed down her face, and she looked more traumatized than anyone else Remi had ever seen. Sarah asked Roman a question and he nodded, and she threw her arms around him in a celebratory hug which Roman didn't return, squirming uncomfortably until she finally let go. Roman certainly wasn't used to hugs.

Mayfair stood over the writhing Doyle, who looked far less intimidating now. "We have so much to talk about," she said to the man she'd been waiting to catch. She lowered down to put cuffs on him just in case he had any thoughts of escape. She _accidentally_ knelt on his groin and when he whimpered, she replied, "Ooops, terribly sorry," as she beamed. Mayfair leaned close, her lips only an inch or two away from Doyle, and her smile had become quite intimidating. "All those girls you used…I know their _names_ , I've studied their _faces_ …and, buddy, you're going to pay."

After Doyle was taken away by a veritable flock of agents, Mayfair asked, "Where's Shepherd?"

"Locked up in the cells under the barn with Oscar," Kurt said. "Shepherd is hurt, but I think she'll survive. I bandaged her wound and hopefully slowed down the bleeding."

"We're bringing in a rescue ladder for the kids. In the meantime, you need to get to the hospital," Mayfair said to Remi.

"Not until Roman and Sarah are on the ground," Remi argued. "And I want to see Shepherd before you take her away."

Kurt, already perfectly aware of how stubborn she could be, quickly removed his shirt and folded it over a few times before using his belt to fasten it tightly to the cut on her ribs to staunch the blood. Then, he swept her legs out from under her and held her as they waited for the FBI to free their siblings. Remi wanted to protest, every self-sufficient, lone-survivor molecule in her body resisting, but when he pressed a kiss to her forehead, she took in his expression. He wasn't acting the part of a brave rescuer or hero, he was simply holding her because he loved her, and did the only thing he could at that moment to try to help ease her pain.

Several agents ran to Mayfair and whispered something, and she angrily retorted, "What do you mean 'missing'?"

"What's wrong?" Remi asked.

Mayfair strolled slowly over to the couple and confessed, "Our agents didn't find Oscar or Shepherd in the barn or the cells below. We can't find them."

Remi watched while all available agents fanned out, searching the grounds. "You won't find her," she said.

"Can you give us any idea of where she may hide?"

Remi shook her head, "She moved Roman and Sarah, rigged the house…she doesn't trust me. She's smart. She won't go anywhere that I could find her."

Then a cold shiver shot up her spine and she shouted, "Get those kids out of there now," as she wriggled out of Kurt's arms.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Just gut instinct, but I know Shepherd. She wants to inflict pain…she wants to hurt me if she thinks I betrayed her. If the house is rigged, it might be on a timer or a remote detonator. Get them down!"

Remi hurried to the porch, injuries be damned, climbing carefully up, searching for tripwires or other traps. Kurt followed her, taking a rope from one of the agents and joining in the rescue. He was rambling about her passing out from blood loss, but she felt responsible for getting Roman and Sarah into this mess, so she sure as hell was going to get them out of it, too.

Kurt moved past her and very carefully climbed out along the building, and she was more than a little impressed at his skills while he worked his way to the window using a downspout and the stones that lined the chimney. He got to the window pretty quickly, entering as Sarah flung her arms around his neck. He clearly had trouble getting her to let go.

Remi directed the agents to rig a fall pad, just in case Sarah lost her grip and fell. Kurt tied the rope around his sister, and he and Roman carefully lowered her, even though she looked terrified to leave her brother's side. Remi hurried down to meet her, and the moment Sarah's feet touched ground, she grabbed onto Remi. "I love you guys," Sarah sobbed. Remi knew this event had probably changed Sarah's entire outlook on the world.

Seconds after Roman and Kurt made it to the ground and they all joined Mayfair in the van, they heard a series of explosions, watching as the farmhouse, once so orderly and picture-perfect, was engulfed in flames and began to collapse in on itself.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N-I am so sorry for my slowness in updating, my muse has been cranky as of late. Thanks so much to the usual suspects who were instrumental in helping me get this story done. This is mostly complete, and I marked it as such, but I may tack on an epilogue chap or two, and if I do, I'll post them here. So this one may pop up again to show another scene or two in the future.**

 **Again** **thank you so much** **to all of you, seeing comments, messages, likes or follows on stories are such a sweet reward, and I get thoroughly excited whenever I hear that some has enjoyed something I've written.**

* * *

 **Chapter 15**

As Remi and Roman sat in the van, they watched the home they'd known for years burn to the ground while a few agents tried to put it out using water pumped from their pond. "Are there any personal belongings you'd like me to try to salvage?" Mayfair asked.

Remi looked at Roman and the two shared an unspoken thought before Remi answered for both of them, "There's nothing, except…" she opened the door of the van while Mayfair tried to stop her, clearly concerned about other traps or explosives that may go off at other locations around the farm. Remi whistled and waited until their dog raced over the hill, dashing with ridiculous speed and then coming to a very obedient halt at her feet, sitting and awaiting a command.

Sarah reached out to pet the dog, who stepped back from the girl suspiciously. Remi remembered the way the dog had allowed Kurt to pet him the very first day he'd been at the farm, which was quite unusual for the canine.

"What's his name?" Sarah asked.

"Name?" Roman questioned, perplexed.

"Yea…what do you call him?"

"Dog," Roman replied, like Sarah had lost her mind.

The four were moved to an oversized ambulance for treatment and to await transfer to the FBI. After Remi's wounds were stitched up, she asked Mayfair, "Am I going to be arrested?"

Mayfair shook her head, "Why would you ask that?"

"I was part of Shepherd's group. I want to know if Roman and I are safe, or if we'll be in jail by morning."

"You are safe. You have my word."

Remi hoped this was true, but wasn't used to trusting anyone in law enforcement. She watched while Kurt was being tended to, the EMTs checking the head wound and concussion he'd sustained quite recently.

Sarah slept on a gurney while she received IV fluids, her body and mind exhausted. Remi noticed that Sarah began to dream, and it looked like she was experiencing a night terror. Remi stepped away from her conversation with Mayfair to calm Sarah, since Kurt was still being treated. Before she could get there, Roman sat next to Sarah on the gurney, and leaned down and began whispering something.

Sarah woke and shot upright, wiping tears, clearly shaken. She sat right next to Roman, her arm against his, and he continued to whisper. She asked a question that Remi couldn't hear, and Roman begrudgingly nodded. Sarah leaned her forehead against Roman's shoulder as he continued to speak. Remi returned to Mayfair, allowing Roman to be the calming force in a situation for once.

* * *

Later that night, while they were being transported to the FBI, Remi opened the provided computer to review footage to see if she could find any useful information to share with the FBI that may help them capture Shepherd. It contained most of the data Gord had taken from the farm. She found the video of Roman and Sarah's captivity, and reviewed it. Part of her feared discovering something she could not un-see, but she had to know what had happened.

In the first segment of the video, it appeared that Roman hated being tied back-to-back with Sarah, but when she really began to panic and cry, he'd turned over his shoulder toward her and said something. Raising the volume up as high as it could go, Remi was able to hear Roman humming a song she'd hummed to him as a child after their parents had been killed. As the video progressed, he eventually allowed Sarah to lean back and rest her head on his shoulder.

Remi continued to watch, largely because she wanted to know if anything had happened between Doyle and Sarah. She knew Kurt would be crushed if Doyle harmed his sister in that way. At one point later in the video, Doyle came in and began to unlock Sarah's shackles to take her away. At that moment, Roman went berserk. He didn't just act strange or unpredictable, he appeared to be possessed or rabid, flailing around and biting Doyle's arm when he reached for Sarah. Roman kicked Doyle's knee, making it buckle back painfully.

Once he had Doyle's attention, Roman made one threat Remi couldn't understand in the footage, no matter how many times she replayed it. Doyle punched Roman hard enough to silence the teen, but for some reason, Doyle left alone. It was clear, Roman had saved Sarah from Doyle's lecherous proclivities.

Initially, Sarah looked frightened of Roman and the insanity he'd displayed in front of Doyle. After a few moments, she calmed as he'd spoken to her. All of the wildness he'd displayed had disappeared, and he returned to humming his calming song before Sarah rested her head back on his shoulder.

When the medics were done with Kurt, it looked like he was going to Sarah's side, but Remi grabbed his arm and asked, "Sit with me a minute?"

"Okay," he replied, his attention torn between her and Sarah.

"He stopped Doyle from taking Sarah off on her own," Remi said, nodding toward her brother.

"Roman did?"

"Yea. I watched the video. It doesn't appear that she was ever alone with Doyle."

Kurt blew out a long sigh of relief and surprise. "I owe your little brother one."

"We both do," Remi assured. "But look at him."

"What? He's really annoyed that Sarah's leaning on him?"

"He isn't annoyed. Just confused. I know it's weird, but…Roman is never the calm and comforting one. I think he likes it, being the protector to someone who really needs him. I think…it's good for him. My brother isn't a bad person. He's just…the _person_ left deep within him needs to find out how to come out again."

Kurt nodded. Remi could feel the protective brother side of Kurt worrying about someone as unstable as Roman so close to his sister, but he was content to keep a watchful eye.

* * *

All of them arrived at the FBI Office in New York City, and were brought in together. Remi's fight-or-flight instincts were in high gear, since willingly walking into a law enforcement office seemed like insanity. The elevator dinged and slid open, and the four of them, along with Mayfair and several other agents, stepped out. Immediately, everyone in the office stood and began to applaud. Mayfair stepped to the side and signaled that the applause should be directed toward four of the youngest and least officially trained people ever involved in an official operation.

Remi glanced at Kurt, who appeared just as baffled. Sarah smiled shyly, but almost stepped behind her cohorts. Mayra, the woman whose granddaughter was killed by Doyle, stepped out from the crowd to shake each of their hands before a more dour face approached and extended his hand to Remi first. "Director Theo Davis," he said, formally. "The FBI, the American People, and our president all owe you our gratitude. With the intel you were able to secure, we stopped the attacks planned all across the country. Sixteen distinct militia cells were discovered. Our local agents have raided or will raid all sites tonight. The fight is far from over…but thanks to you, we won this battle."

He introduced himself to each person, shaking their hands and offering his gratitude. Roman glared even as Remi elbowed him to accept the handshake. He finally did, although he rolled his eyes, looking every bit the angry teen he was.

As they were led to a conference room, Kurt asked, "Where's Gord?"

"Some of the intel we found was heavily encrypted. Mr. Enver is working with our team of tech specialists as we speak," Mayfair replied.

"Why are you holding us here?" Remi asked worriedly.

"It's for your own protection," Mayfair assured. "You're all heroes. And that means that until we find Shepherd, Oscar, and any of her sympathizers, you're all targets."

The FBI's initial plan was to split up the entire group into four different homes, but all four obstinately agreed that they wouldn't be separated. Remi calmly told Mayfair and Director Davis, "If you try to split us up, we'll disappear, and I promise you will never find us again."

Davis laughed, but he seemed to know that, at the very least, it would be quite difficult to find them, and the FBI needed them.

It took a few days for the FBI to prepare the documents they needed, working furiously with the US Marshals, but Kurt and Remi won, and all four of them would be put into protective custody together, under assumed names.

For the time being, they were relocated to a ranch in Vermont. This ranch was close enough that Mayfair could keep contact with them and ask any important questions, or bring them in to testify, but far enough away from their homes. Most importantly, at the strong urging of the FBI psychiatrist, the wife of the ranch owner was a respected former-FBI counsellor, who could provide much needed therapy. They also suggested that the normalcy of farm work might be comfortingly familiar for Roman and Remi. The ranch was large enough to have a team of two Marshals stationed in their own quarters in case there was an emergency. It seemed obvious that the FBI really needed their help and testimonies.

Two days later, Kurt, Remi, Roman, Sarah, and Dog were all sent to the Brattons' Ranch in Vermont, leaving any belongings behind except those on their persons. It was the start of a new life. Sarah worried about her father, but she was only told the FBI would talk to him, and that hopefully she could see him once Shepherd had been apprehended.

* * *

Everyone expected Roman to have difficulty acclimating, and, while it wasn't easy for him, he worked hard, and the Brattons kept him busy. Remi and Kurt were both used to strict regimens and order. It was Sarah who had the most difficult transition initially, one day a typical high school kid, the next day kidnapped, a witness to an FBI raid, and then shortly thereafter in witness protection. She was forced to leave her school and friends, and even her father. While Kurt didn't care for Bill Weller, Sarah still loved him.

Kurt and Remi demanded full custody of their siblings, but were denied. The judge worried they weren't stable enough to care for teens who had been through the things they had, so Kurt and Remi also had to attend therapy. They were given the residence adjoining the Bratton family to maintain as their own so they could show they were fit to care for their minor siblings. It was better than losing Roman and Sarah. They could all see each other daily, work and eat together, and it was technically more togetherness than Kurt and Sarah had had in years.

Two weeks after settling in, a car came onto the property, and Kurt and Remi found the guns that Mayfair had agreed to allow them to keep for their own protection. Both were immediately ready to fight. Mr. Bratton came out from the main house and held his hands up. When Remi opened the door, he said, "You have visitors from the FBI."

Mayfair had come, bringing the still grateful Mayra, and Kurt, Remi, and their siblings met with them in Kurt and Remi's residence.

"How are we adjusting?" Mayfair asked as they sat at the dining table.

Sarah crossed her arms, "When can I go back to school?"

"That's a complicated question."

"Am I going to graduate, or do you want me to hide here for the rest of my life?"

Mayfair, surprised by Sarah's more assertive attitude, said, "We've put together papers for you all. Roman and Sarah, here you go." She slid birth certificates and forged school records onto the table.

"Who are John and Samantha Bratton?" Roman dryly asked.

"For now…you are. You're siblings, the niece and nephew of the Brattons. You'll be enrolling in a small private high school. For now, a Marshal will be on the premises, covertly, of course."

"I've never gone to school," Roman argued.

Mayfair diplomatically replied, "You'll have tutors to help you. It's time we establish some normalcy, and we have to start somewhere. You both deserve an education, a life."

"We can't afford private school," Kurt interjected.

"Mayra's taking care of that," Mayfair explained.

"Why?" Sarah asked.

Mayra replied, "My granddaughter had a substantial trust fund. Making sure you all receive a proper education seems like a good use for it. And if you want to attend college, I'll be happy to help with that as well."

Watching Remi's eyes fall to the table, Mayfair said, "A tutor will come in, and help you study for your GED. Unless you'd like to enroll in school?"

"GED is fine, thanks," Remi replied.

"What are your plans for the future?" Mayfair asked, her eyes on Remi and Kurt.

"I owe the US Army eight years, ma'am," Kurt answered.

"I'm aware. But Director Davis made some calls…if you're willing, the FBI would like to recruit you for some special projects. General Neal was willing to work out the details with us. Of course you'll have to attend training. There are college requirements as well, but, given the circumstances, Davis and others would like to put things in motion and allow you to complete your studies over time."

Kurt glanced at Remi, awaiting her thoughts.

"It's your life," Remi whispered, making efforts to sound unconcerned.

"The offer…" Mayfair continued, "is for both of you. The practical skills and knowledge you have is something that cannot easily be learned in the classroom."

Remi squinted at Mayfair, "Both of us?"

"In a very short time, you two have become quite the topic of conversation. You have almost natural abilities…you work exceptionally well as a team. You're young and at a crossroads. You'll have choices in this life. We know you could wake up tomorrow and decide to carry on Shepherd's work. You could join up with her or someone else. I'll bet if the CIA has the chance, they'll make the same offer. We want you to work with us."

Kurt and Remi stared, stunned.

* * *

 **-13 months later-**

After months of searching, Shepherd was finally in custody. Kurt, Remi, Roman, and Sarah could finally drop their aliases and begin the transition to a more normal life. They no longer needed to be in protective custody. Remi and Roman both preferred their new names. After a brief period of adjustment, everyone was calling her 'Jane' somewhat naturally. She and Roman had been given the names Jane and John, respectively. Just as they'd changed their names when taken in by Shepherd, they agreed this was a chance for a new start. Somewhat ironically, her birth name had been 'Alice Jane' and his had been 'Ian,' a form of John. It almost seemed like a sign, because they'd both reclaimed the people they'd been born as and become someone new.

Kurt didn't really mind work on the ranch, although bailing hay didn't offer the same thrill he felt after a taste of law enforcement. He was dying to start training in a month. Jane immersed herself in her studies, excited for the opportunity to learn, and knowing perfectly well that if she didn't receive her GED, she couldn't begin training. She, too, didn't enjoy the more mundane life at the ranch, and was excited to get back out there and try to do some good in the world, or at least kick some asses that desperately needed kicking.

John/Roman and Sarah attended a small private high school nearby. After months of therapy and the ordeal they'd faced while kidnapped, the pair had become fiercely protective of each other. It was the first real bond John had made besides Jane and Shepherd. Sarah treated him with a kindness he didn't really understand, but that only made him even more protective of her.

Late one evening, Kurt returned to the bedroom he and Jane shared, and found her in the corner she used as a study area. Jane was lying on her belly on the futon, feet alternatingly kicking off the cushion and popping back up while she doodled in the corner of her dictionary-thick study guide.

"How's it going?" he asked.

She glanced over, and automatically went over their nightly checklist. "John?" she asked, using Roman's new name.

"In his room," Kurt responded, since he'd just checked.

"Sarah?"

"In her room."

"Homework?"

"Complete."

"Locks?"

"All checked. Windows and doors. Alarm set."

"Okay," she smiled, knowing the day was finally winding down. John and Sarah had earned the privilege of living in the house with Kurt and Jane instead of in the Bratton Residence, but that privilege could be revoked at any time. Jane and Kurt had become a pretty good parenting team, even though caring for teen siblings wasn't always easy. The Brattons were in the next building, always willing to help, but the young couple tried to function on their own. Since she'd been spending much of her time studying, Kurt had taken a leading role in caring for the younger siblings.

"Did you call the school and find out what they wanted?" Jane asked.

"Uhh…yea."

"Is he in trouble again?" she asked after her brother.

"It wasn't his fault," Kurt defended. "Some guy was bugging Sarah, John stepped in."

"Some guy was 'bugging her' or 'talking to her'?" Jane asked. "You two are going to have to accept that she's sweet and pretty, and that, some day, she's going to have a boyfriend! You're both so damn overprotective. She deserves to date, Kurt."

"I know. But Sarah said this guy was being a jackass. John saw it and stepped in."

"Oh," Jane said, at first relieved, then concerned again. "Is the guy hurt bad?"

"Your brother's really trying," Kurt sincerely responded. "He pushed the guy away from her but, for the most part, he talked instead of getting physical. There was no bloodshed this time."

Jane nodded, at least for the moment, her brother wasn't going to get kicked out of school. He really had grown in the space of a year. "Maybe counseling is helping."

"I think so. Technically he threatened the guy, and the school could have taken action…but given the circumstances and John's general improvement, the principal actually seemed kind of proud of him. The kid is getting himself under control, at least a little. He needs to stick with therapy, but he's gonna be okay."

"I hope so," Jane wistfully commented.

"But back to my original question…" Kurt said more enthusiastically, "How's the studying going?"

She dropped her head so hard that her forehead made a thudding sound on her book. "If I don't pass…you can go without me."

He chuckled, lifting the lower part of her legs and sitting in their place before they fell onto his lap. His hand moved to the center of her back and rubbed comfortingly. "You'll pass."

"Seriously," she replied, sounding defeated, "Don't let me hold you back. If I'm not ready when it's time to go, start without me."

"I would never leave my wife behind," he joked, since their fake papers from witness protection named them as Kyle and Jane Sellers, a young married couple.

"We don't need our fake identities anymore, so I guess that means our fake marriage is annulled." She rolled on her side, propping her head on her hand. "You don't owe me anything. You can go next month, either way."

"If you don't pass, I'll work here and help you study until you do. Not because I owe you…because I love you. We're in this together. Training would be boring as hell without you. We're a team. Trust me, if I can finish high school, so can you."

"It's different when high school is the first school you ever go to."

"I picked up a new book of practice tests to help," he said, producing the heavy volume from beneath the side table next to him.

"Thanks," she replied, trying to smile, but clearly tired of studying.

He opened the book and read, " _Find the transverse axis, the center, the foci, and the vertices of the hyperbola_ …is this in Latin?"

She laughed, "Patronizing me?"

"No," he shook his head. "I don't have a damn clue how to do any of that."

"You'll remember if I show you," she said, taking the corner of a well-scribbled on piece of scratch paper and solving the problem as she explained it to him.

He grinned at the ease with which she'd done the problem. "Told you you'll pass."

"Go to bed," she said. "I'll be there soon."

"I want to help you study," he insisted.

She raised an eyebrow, knowing the look. "What exactly do you hope to get out of it?"

"The satisfaction of knowing I was there for you when you needed me. Plus…I'm not going to training without you, so we need to make sure you're ready for that test."

"Okay," she answered.

He flipped through the book and poked his finger into a new page. " _In genetics, what are the phases of transcription_?"

"Initiation, elongation, termination," she replied immediately, like the question was far too easy and he was wasting her time.

Checking the answer in the book, he replied, "Very good," and then tugged off one of her socks and tossed it across the room. Her face scrunched in question, and he added, "Rewarding your correct answer."

She looked up, disapprovingly, and replied, "So _I_ study hard, get an answer right, and _you_ get to take off _my_ clothes."

"Sounds right."

"Sounds unfair."

"Trust me…the reward will come." He flipped a few pages, and asked with a suggestive glance, " _What is the first law of thermodynamics_? Sounds kinda hot…"

"Are you asking questions that you think you can spin into something dirty?"

"No," he exaggeratedly huffed. "Everyone knows that…," he peeked into the answer key and read in complete monotone, " _the first law of thermodynamics is that energy cannot be created or destroyed_."

"So smart," she giggled, sitting up and unbuttoning the top button on his pants.

"Woah," he scolded, "haven't you ever played strip poker? You start with the coverings in more boring bodily regions and work up to the exciting ones."

"I haven't studied strip poker," she lamented. "Maybe we should put this book down and work on that for a while."

"Focus," he insisted, tugging off her other sock.

She pointed at the sock, "I didn't even answer a question, so why did you _reward_ me by taking off more clothes?"

"I obviously read my answer from the book. That's cheating, so you won a point," he said before raising his eyebrows and searching for another question.

"My turn to ask a question," she stated, her eyes narrowing in a fake scowl.

"Shoot."

"What's five plus five?"

"Wow," he shook his head as he scratched his thick stubble. "This is a trick question…but I'm not falling for it. Five plus five is fifty-five."

Her cheekbones almost seemed to lift as she laughed, amused even as she tried to yell at him.

"What?" he asked. "No good? Well, if I'm wrong, I'm wrong, and you get another point," he added, tugging off her loose sleeping pants before unceremoniously dropping them on the floor.

Holding her ankle in one hand, he reached for the insanely ticklish spot behind her knee and watched while her limbs contorted and tensed at the sensation of his fluttering fingers, and she fell from the futon to the floor, laughing before she twisted his finger just to the point of pain so that he'd stop.

Still laughing, she rested her chin just above his knee. Her eyes moved around for a moment before she asked, "True or false…even though you're a huge pain in the ass, I love you."

"Uhh…," he gazed up at the ceiling, but couldn't lie about this one. He crossed his fingers for luck and attempted his answer, "True."

"Correct." Jane stood and pulled his shirt up over his head before she knelt on the ground between his knees.

Just the feeling of her palms pressing into his thighs made him twitch in his jeans. Her tongue barely touched her lower lip, a suggestion so fleeting that he could have blinked and missed it. Kissing his abdomen just above his pants, she unzipped them and pulled them off. She softly caressed his sex, encouraging his hardness through the thinner cotton of his boxers.

"I could really use a study break," she suggested. "Maybe de-stress a little?"

"I can help with that," he replied, his mouth falling open slightly as her fingers slipped through the opening in his boxers. Pulling her hand away, he cleared his throat and said, "After we're done studying. Just a few more questions."

She growled and argued, "No more questions. I need to clear my head so I can think," and pulled him down on the floor with her.

As soon as he was on top of her, staring into her mischievous eyes, he felt everything else disappear. Then she pinched the sensitive place between his hip and the top of his leg, her fingers climbing upward along the space on his abdomen right next to his hipbone, the only places on him that were really ticklish, and she watched him try to squirm away, laughing as she got her vengeance for the way he'd treated the back of her knee moments earlier.

He flipped her under him, his leg locked behind hers while his body pressed hers into the floor. He reached past her head and grabbed the book. "You've lost study break privileges," he chastised. "You have to do at least one more question before I let you have your way with me."

Jane couldn't seem to stop giggling. " _Let me_ have my way with you?" she scoffed through a tear that emerged from her laughter. "You're delusional."

"Quit using your fancy book learnin' words," he teased back. "Page 437. Question 6…"

His voice dropped into a low groan as her hands slid into his boxers and she flipped him back over. "I'll answer whatever questions you want. But first, I'm gonna suck you off."

"Sure okay," he almost instantly answered, head nodding, everything forgotten as her one hand cupped his balls and the other wrapped around his shaft. As if her words alone weren't enough to make him instantly fall under her spell. He was only human, after all, and that offer was far too good to resist.

"I'm gonna lick," she whispered as she flicked her tongue over his lip, "and kiss," she demonstrated again, "and suck," she tugged his lower lip between hers, making him lift his head from the ground slightly to follow her before she added, "every single inch until letting you finish is an act of mercy."

He just nodded, mind numb, dick hard, completely willing to do absolutely anything she wanted.

"Be good," she rasped, making every hair on his neck stand on end, "and lie there where I take what I want."

He closed his eyes for a moment, just to get himself under control, feeling the way she moved down his body as she made the last of his clothes disappear. He knew without looking that she was gorgeous, hot as hell, and it almost seemed wrong that a woman he loved and adored so thoroughly could be so wicked and seductive as well.

In truth, it didn't take much to turn him on. He didn't need elaborate seduction or games or role playing to keep things interesting between them, but she truly seemed to enjoy his body as much as he enjoyed hers. Of course, with the demands of life, sometimes all they had was time for a quick moment before the next thing happened. But when they had time together, they liked to make it count.

The study book open and forgotten near his hand, he felt her fingers move over his body, her mouth making good on her earlier promises.

They had been in their relationship a few months before she'd gone down on him the first time, in spite of the fact that he had been more than willing to do so for her at any opportunity, but he never once pushed her to reciprocate. He'd made a few joking suggestions, from time to time, but never, ever wanted her to do something she didn't want to do. He never wanted to be one of the people she looked back on with loathing. He sometimes wondered if that was why she'd been so giving once she'd chosen to perform the act. She never hurried him, or acted like it was a chore, and that just made it so much hotter. She behaved like she was doing exactly what she wanted to do. Then again, every intimate interaction between them seemed to demonstrate just how much she adored him.

But as she licked and caressed and teased like she didn't have a million things to do or a test a few days away that could change her life, every synapse in his brain fired to carry the sensation of hotly coursing passion all through his body. She fucking owned him. There was no point in denying it, but he didn't have to be entirely passive either.

He sat up quickly, startling her and provoking a sort of annoyed and baffled expression, like she couldn't understand what she'd done that would make him want to stop her so abruptly. "Did I do something wrong or—" she began.

"You're perfect. Don't stop," he pleaded, his hands reaching for her hips and lifting her, turning her and directing her to stand above his head, facing his legs. This did nothing to ease her confusion.

Her feet on the floor on either side of his head, he gazed up from the ground, pulling her panties down before he lifted her by her hips and carefully lowered her body on top of his, bringing her knees next to his face while she knelt over him. He put his hands on her butt and gently pushed her down, bringing her sex to his lips. She gasped approvingly the moment his tongue slid between her parted flesh, the sound translating into a tingling sensation all through his body.

At first she sat up, her body rigid with arousal as she hovered over his head, the shape of her perfectly perky ass before his eyes. She pulled off her shirt, the only piece of clothing she still wore. His hands reached around and moved up the front her body, feeling the taut muscles along her stomach and the ridge of her ribs before he palmed both breasts and rolled her nipples, noting the shape of her body and picturing his hands on her in his mind as he explored.

He began to regret pulling her away from him earlier, missing the wet heat of her mouth, the smooth dancing of her tongue, and skilled massaging of her hands. It took all of his power not to push against her back, to encourage her to lean forward a little more and wrap her lips around him again so they could please each other at the same time.

He lapped at the damp recesses offered to him, trying to lose his thoughts in her body. His hands clamped on her hips, feeling this was becoming more intense than the patient session of foreplay he'd expected. As his tongue pushed inside her as deeply as it could, he finally felt her hands wrap around him again, and before he could even hope for more, her mouth swooped down over his sex, hot, and soft yet firm, and so inviting.

They'd been together so many times in the past year that their bodies instantly moved in a practiced rhythm. His hands moved over her torso, holding her sides as he slid between her swollen lips while he sampled her.

The muscles of her inner thighs began to quiver next to his ears, always a sign of the approach of her climax, and his hands latched onto her ass and held her firmly there, lavishing her sex with affection until she tried to twist away, then rolling onto his side to follow her, wanting to stay with her until the last pulses of pleasure faded.

He felt her mouth tighten as her cheeks hollowed, sucking so firmly and fully that she pulled him toward inescapable liberation from the tenseness she'd created.

Even as their passions receded, they continued their touches, tongues and lips meeting spent flesh as arms wrapped and held the other's torso to keep them close. She continued to softly suck as he grew limp in her mouth, and he kissed her most delicate places, neither allowing their offerings to become too overwhelming but not quite ready to stop either. These touches were almost solely expressions of affection beyond gratification.

She finally turned her body around so she could face him, her arms looking weaker than normal, but she still seemed to have more strength than he did as he remained heavily weighted to the floor. Her body sank against him, her mouth finding his in a slowly lingering kiss that left him wishing he was already hard again so he could be inside her while she kissed him like that.

She got up after a little while, leaving him there, his hand draped across his stomach. His eyes focused for a moment and found the book he'd brought, and he suddenly remembered his original plan. He tried to grab the book and close it, feeling like the timing was not quite right, but she came back and dropped a pillow on the floor for them to share and let a blanket billow down over them until it came to rest against their skin.

"You're study obsessed," she teased, taking the book, still open to the page he'd left it on.

"I'll take that," he said, watching while she pulled it beyond his reach.

"What was that question…page 437, question 6, is that right?"

"You don't have to decide right now," he said.

"Decide?" she stared at him like he had six eyes. "Decide what?"

"Nothing," he replied. "Post-sex brain fog."

With obvious confusion and disbelief, she looked at the question, then sat bolt upright. She read it again, this time aloud, " _Jane, will you marry me?"_

She appeared to be so taken aback that he felt his heart sink. Maybe this had been a terrible idea. "I'm sorry," he began.

She shook her head and turned to read his face. "Are you serious? You did this? You put this question here?"

He nodded. "Couldn't be more serious. That's why I wanted to ask one more question before our study break."

She didn't answer right away, her eyes falling to the book, tracing the shape of each letter.

He was beginning to feel like the biggest idiot in the world. "Look, I know we're young, but I also know beyond a doubt that I want to be with you, but I also know it might be too soon for you. There's no rush. We could be engaged as long as you want. Now that Shepherd's been caught and our fake marriage is over, we're going to training, moving on with our lives…I wanted you to know that, as far as you and me are concerned, nothing's changed. At least not in my mind. Pass or fail, I'm not leaving without you. I still feel…" he knew he was rambling, and paused. She'd barely said a word.

Then she read beyond the question, " _Answer key on page 613._ "

She flipped through the pages and found the ring he'd taped into place beneath the words, " _Yes, Kurt, of course I'll marry you (some day when I'm ready)._ " She freed the ring and studied it. "How did you afford this? It's beautiful."

"I had that money saved up for Sarah's college. Since Mayra's paying for that, I figured…damn, Jane, I'm so sorry…if this is too soon, or—"

"I want to marry you," she answered, bobbing her head. "Of course I want to marry you."

"Wait?" he said, beaming like a complete fool who was completely shocked by her response. "You do?"

"Yes!" she replied, holding out the ring and offering her hand.

He held it up, waiting a moment for her to nod her agreement one last time, and then he slid the ring into place.

"How did you put that in the book?" she asked, staring alternatingly at the ring on her finger and the man by her side.

"Some computer geek that Sarah's friends with at school. She matched the page, printed it up and I glued it in."

Jane shook her head as she thought, then she stated, very clearheadedly, "We're going to get married."

"Yea, baby. We are. Whenever you're ready."


End file.
